


mune ga hachikire soude

by clohsoo



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Haruno Sakura-centric, Jinchuuriki haruno Sakura, Nohara Rin Lives, ROOT!Sakura, accidentally, i just want sakura to have a monster form like the boys of team 7, i want to let her go ham go absolutely pig meat, nohara rin-centric too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2019-10-28 10:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clohsoo/pseuds/clohsoo
Summary: A deal is made between two devils and two girls share a demon.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> first fic 🎉
> 
> also, the title comes from Mitski's "first love, late spring"

Vibrations and contracting muscles are the first things that sear their way into her waking mind. Her heart quivers. She knows what this means and waits for the worst. 

  
  


Ventricular fibrillation, cardiac arrest, loss of consciousness

  
  


And then it never comes. (Or maybe it has already passed)

  
  


Ghost pains, it seems. Signals to her brain have finally caught up. She allows herself a few deep breaths before everything speeds up again, her muscles tense once more in response to the unfamiliar… everything.

  
  


Once the purple splotches clear from her vision, eyes finally adjusting to the near-blinding surgical lights, she observes her surroundings with as much caution as she can summon through the bleary mist of whatever chemicals were punched into her system.

  
  


The small room is a far cry from hospital sterile. The walls are stone, though the color is hard to deduce because the only source of lighting is focused on her. Her wrists are loosely cuffed to the worn rails of her less-than-hospital-grade hospital bed, and said bed is covered by dingy sheets. Patches and wires and tubes stick out of her, connecting to the machines that whir and beep softly behind the bed.

  
  


Safe, she thinks even though she knows it isn’t true, not at all. The little comfort it provides lets her focus on figuring out what landed her here.

  
  


Konoha, Kakashi, Will of Fire, duty, heart, Chidori

  
  


But that had all happened in the wilderness between Kiri and Konoha, furthermore, her plan was to  _ die. _ In a flurry of panicked breathing, her thoughts escape her, “Was it all for nothing? Am I detained for attacking Konoha? Where is the--”

  
  


“Nohara-san,” a man says, tone indecipherable. How did she not notice-- “Your sacrifice saved Konoha, but it still needs you.”

 

Rin’s eyes follow the voice to a doorway, was there even a door there before? Her head hurt too much to dwell. Two figures stand there, a respectful distance away. If her body wasn’t so rigid, and her reactions so sluggish, she might have dropped her jaw in surprise. Those two figures are  _ legendary  _ figures. Shinobi with abilities that shake battlefields are here with her, in this musty room, implying they needed  _ her _ help.

  
  


They could have been using a henge or a genjutsu, yet Rin’s instinct cut through the suspicion. She recognizes their presence clear as day, recalling the few times she saw them Konoha and the battlefield.

  
  


She nods a single nod before sleep pulls her under once more.

  
  


 

* * *

  
  


A girl wakes up. She trains by herself, then she trains with the others. Later, she trains with Danzo. It is a privilege .

 

 

She used to be punished for not being able to draw out large quantities of chakra at a time. Its like they expect it to be there no matter how much she told them it was not. However, this girl adapted. She began using more exact amounts of chakra in her jutsus to make the most of her supplies. As she grew and practiced, the chakra available to her grew and no one was the wiser. 

  
  


Something in her gut twisted when she thought about the way she was deceiving her superiors, but books said shinobi and kunoichi were masters of deception. They were training her to be the best, the enforcers of Danzo’s will, so she counts it as extra practice.

  
  


When she has off time, moments snuck in between the hours of training and the rare mission, she spends it reading. She will read any book available, though she usually gravitates towards those on history or techniques. There is a boy with black hair who reads the ones about people sometimes. Most of the time he fills up empty ones with drawings. 

  
  


There are many words she didn’t know at first. Her superiors tend to use the same basic vocabulary every day. Instead of asking others about the definitions, she used deduction and clues from other books to figure it out by herself. 

  
  


Most of the techniques stay as theories in her mind. During training, she performs what her superiors command to the tee. During free spars, she only uses what she knows they know they taught her. Once, she remembers, she used something they did not teach her, something even they did not know. Danzo approved, they did not. Danzo did not order them to punish her, but late in the night, she was hit all the same.

  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  


Someone died today in training and their body was carried away. Normal. Group training had forty minutes left when someone on Danzo's personal guard arrived, asking for her. Not normal, never happened before.

  
  


She bows to her superiors and follows the guard. Just a meter from the door, she hears voices from inside.

  
  


“- ra? I didn’t know you have a sense of humor,” a sibilant voice teases.

  
  


Before a response could be thrown back, the guard and the girl enter the room, bowing as they await orders. Danzo’s discreet flick of the hand dismisses the guard.

  
  


“At attention,” the girl snaps up so that her back is straight and hands are at her sides, “You have a mission. For now, it will be to create a persona to be used indefinitely.”

  
  


Fully standing, she can see there were three other people in the room with her. The girl keeps her focus on Danzo -- it is a sign of disrespect not to do so unless told -- while keeping the long-haired person and short-haired woman in her periphery.

  
  


Danzo plucks from the long haired person -- whose expression reveals they are the likely source of the earlier comment -- a cream-colored file, half a centimeter thick. There is a seal of some sort pasted on the back.

  
  


Considering the file for a moment, Danzo looks over it’s edge to make eye contact with the girl, continuing, “Your name from here on out is Haruno.” The woman’s twitch, however subtle it is, is registered by the girl, but if Danzo notices, he doesn’t show any sign of caring, “Sakura.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> solution to not knowing shit about jutsus: limited pov  
> i was practically raised on Naruto, but i haven't consumed actual canon material since elementary school :-)
> 
> i'm open to any suggestions (ships welcomed) and i love talking!  
> Patch notes 17.2.19: rewritten to be present tense, removed some extraneous details, removed the honorifics in the narration because I realized it was annyoing


	2. lately i've been crying like a tall child

 

Somewhere in the heart of Konoha’s civilian quarter, a family buys a house. 

  
  


Of course, it was Danzo who pulled the strings. The buyers, merchants with a primary residence in the capital of Fire Country, were paper people. Haruno Kizashi and Mebuki existed as weekly checks, an abundance of Ryo bills, and the necessary official documents. They bore a daughter of flesh the same night they were born, and in all of their parchment wisdom, decided to raise her in a hidden village. Kizashi left her in the care of his also-recently-alive-thank-you-very-much kid sister, Haruno Ume (Danzo, apparently, did have a sense of humor, it seemed).

  
  


Of course, it would be impossible to ever trace it back to Danzo. There were no loose ends to tug on anymore.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The house is nice. Even if it is tucked between two other single-family residences. They wouldn’t need the privacy of a stand-alone building with ample space for side, front, and backyards, since -- you know -- there was that whole Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal. Still, the suburban (though, definitely, leaning towards urban) squeeze would take some time to adjust to.

  
  


“Ume-ba.” That would also take some time to adjust to.

  
  


Village heroes or not, Danzo and Orochimaru took away her name (“Rin” had to remain dead to protect the village), her clan markings (too distinctive), her shinobi-hood (too old to start from the beginning), and her most of her chakra (sealed up because civilians should never have that much).

  
  


Kiri-nin took away what muscle she managed to build up (muscles tended to atrophy after years of no use) and years of her youth. She woke up a twelve-year-old in an eighteen-year-old’s body.

  
  


What did she have after all that was stripped away? Pessimism was never her strong suit.

  
  


A reminder of her last name. Under the guise of Spring, she still has “field”, but it is wide and it is  _ empty _ . She didn’t have to pass by her old neighborhood, skirting the Uchiha complex, to know there probably weren’t any living Nohara’s in here anymore. (Would she be allowed to visit the cemetery?) Konoha makes up for that though! It’s bustling more than she had ever seen before. Minato’s face, she saw earlier, has joined the greats in watching over the village. It makes her heart swell with pride and sense of fulfillment. He achieved his dream.

  
  


Her hair is nearly the same as she remembers it. Sure, it's the color of red incense now, and she has to re-apply lemon to strip the melanin off as it grows out. But, it's also chin length again. In a desperate fit for some self-affirmation and to reconcile her longer, baby-fatless face, Rin took a chakra scalpel to her long locks. 

  
  


Technically, she's kept her chestnut brown eyes. It came to her with great relief, that they just gave her a pair of green contacts instead of resorting to any more  _ drastic _ measures.

  
  


None of her old clothes fit anymore, not that they were in any state to fit anyone before she took that long nap. No point in crying over that cup of spilled milk. Her hitai-ate is in safekeeping with Danzo. Just imagine trying to explain why a civilian has one of those. And she still has her bracelet. It's like her rock now, really the only th--

  
  


“Ume...nee-san,” Sakura tries out the honorific. Rin could get used to that one. She blinks, breaking the spell of introspection, and meets big green eyes that betray nothing but a hint of expectancy.

  
  


Rin wonders if Sakura blinks; her eyes look dry.

  
  


It's a moment before Rin realizes what the girl is  _ probably  _ suggesting, “Let's get settled in, ne, Sakura-chan?”

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


The house is as long as it is wide. A sporadic half of it looks like it was renovated sometime within the last decade, while the other half looks like it's been protected by a spacetime seal since the Shodai’s reign.

  
  


Not that it  _ needs _ any renovation. The style’s just a bit mismatched.

  
  


Mismatched is good! It adds character.

  
  


The only things filling up the house are the bare necessities of the average civilian home, Rin supposes. There are four sets of everything: dishware, chairs at the table, bedding, et cetera. The furniture is boringly plain, always wood or a solid mute color, but still of nice quality.

 

* * *

  
  


 

There’s a lull in footsteps in the house about thirty minutes in. Rin ran out of drawers to look through and doors to open about five minutes ago. She looks across the table to Sakura, who secured the perimeter within three minutes and spent seven more standing against the wall like a sardine in a can. Sakura only sat down because Rin, on her way upstairs, said something in passing like, “We’ve been walking all day! You should sit down before your feet get too sore.”

  
  


So now here they are, and Sakura hasn’t so much as moved to do anything else. 

  
  


“Say,” Rin closes the first aid kit she’s nabbed from the downstairs bathroom. After looking through it, she can confidently say that its one-hundred-percent perfect (for a civilian, like everything else in this house). “Do you want to go shopping with me?”

  
  


The girl who is now Haruno Sakura has never been asked a question like this. The girl who is now Sakura Haruno is used to sniding rhetorical questions or firm “Do you understand?”s. The question from Rin is neither of these things; it is asked with the utmost regard and respect for her decision. 

  
  


Despite its foreign-ness, Sakura replies without a moment's pause, “Yes.” Shopping would also mean exploring, building up a rapport with other civilians, planting the Harunos down among other things.

  
  


It's somewhere between one and two in the afternoon when they leave. Only when the sun dips low onto the horizon, do they manage to get back to the house.

  
  


The people in the surrounding one block radius are nice, but they sure do like to talk. The girls are new and shiny with their striking pink hair and green eyes. Shopkeepers give Rin extras and freebies while half-joking about introducing her to their sons. Rin laughs it off with a polite smile. 

  
  


The girls manage to stagger back and heave the multiplicity of bags onto the dinner table. Sakura sits on the chair facing the door with two walls at its back. Rin stands at a corner, laying out the haul.

  
  


Fresh vegetables, meat, and fruit, mostly. Rin isn’t quite comfortable with spending Danzo’s money after so many years of earning Ryo from her own hard work on missions. 

  
  


On the edge of what could be definitively called the civilian district, Rin bought enough ninja tools to feel safe again, though not enough to arouse any suspicion. It wasn’t hard to walk that line, she found, because there were other decidedly not-ninja girls in there looking for self-defense tools.

  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

 

They spend the second day decorating the house.

  
  


At the kid’s store, Sakura sees a girl her age beg her parents for a pillow with the visage of an anthropomorphized bean plastered all over it, “Is that what girls usually want?”

  
  


Rin looks at her with an indulgent, knowing little look and soon that bean character looked like the theme of Sakura’s room.

  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

 

They walk farther on the third day, to a video store someone recommended at the “place with the most and the low’st prices”.

  
  


It's on the way back that some guy, maybe mid-twenties, says, “Onee-san, will you take me home with you too?”

  
  


The remark startles her. Rin is a good ten years younger than him! Chunin might be considered adults, but Rin knows that her hitai-ate isn’t on.

  
  


Oh.

  
  


Her hitai-ate isn’t on because she’s undercover on a mission for the village six years ahead of her own memories. She looks like a grown, adult, mature eighteen-year-old. Rin feels like she’s looking down at the scene. The man is leaning against a wall with some of his cronies. Sakura stands like a mannequin by the side of Rin’s cage of muscle, bone, fat, and fluid.

  
  


Halting in reaction to the man was a bad idea. He takes this as a sign she’s actually considering him and takes a step and then another, hands in pockets. He’s walking towards them, Rin sees from above. 

  
  


Then, everything snaps in place. A hair trigger was released. A force stronger than gravity shoved Rin back into the meat cage’s perspective. There is a blink before Rin pulls Sakura up into her chest and sprints home. Fight or flight, Rin could only choose flight here.

  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

 

With Sakura sent up to the bath, Rin’s body finally relaxes, letting the muscles cramp up. The restrictive pain reminds her of what feels like should have been less than a week ago. Like when she was a jinchuriki, Rin feels like she’s trapped in her own body. Hands -- the ones she is controlling -- clench at the kitchen countertop, she--

  
  


“Ume-nee-san,” Sakura stands in the doorway of the kitchen, “the bath is ready.”

  
  


The hands let go, choosing to smooth out Rin’s skirt instead, “Okay, well. I don’t want you to get bored. So, here’s some homework! Relax and watch some movies okay? I think you’ll like them. They were my favorites when I was your age.”

  
  


“Hai,” Sakura walks perfectly and automatically to the couch as Rin inserts the first disc from the tower of rented movies.

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

Grief, among other emotions, seek her out as she is lying in the bath.

  
  


It feels safe and if she didn’t develop infantile amnesia, she would compare it to the womb. She is hugged by the wallpapered protection seals, warm water, and the low hum of the lights.

  
  


When she first hears crying, Rin is surprised. Sakura hasn't shown any emotions so openly before. Then, with less surprise, she recognizes the sobs as her own. She resisted unlocking those negative emotions before, during her conscious stay at Orochimaru’s (maybe it was Danzo's) facility. They were detached from her, adjacent almost, at that time; she wasn’t comfortable letting herself be vulnerable in that miserable, damp place. Miserable places in her life always tended to be cold, dark, and damp, didn’t they?

  
  


Well, the floodgates of her memories are open, so Rin resigns herself to deal with them now before they crust over with puss. It was healthier than keeping the trauma tucked away under constant stoicism, she knows after time as a med-nin during the war. What would be better than self-therapy, she also knows, would be talking it out to an actual therapist. That would never happen, however, because she is a walking higher-than-S-ranked secret.

  
  


Orochimaru and Danzo told her many things back at the facility of undisclosed location and purpose. She is aware that she does not know everything as of yet because the logic that people with positions as high as theirs would never dish out all of their secrets and because they told her it was likely not in her best mental interest to digest five year’s worth of fact in such a short period of time. That’s fine. She can do the most from her current position than any other they could have offered her.

  
  


Her face sinks into the water until it meets the dorsum of her nose.

  
  


Sakura, like her, is a jinchuriki of the Sanbi. Unlike Rin, Sakura was made to house the demon. The toddler, Rin was told, is the perfect empty vessel, equipped with superb chakra control and grown from cells with the ability to suppress the beast. The way Orochimaru described her was akin to an artisan singing praises of his own vase, maybe more like a bespoke shoe. There was an unforgettable glint of fulfillment in his eye every time he spoke of Sakura or looked at Rin that glittered like jewels on the crown of a newly coronated king.

  
  


Rin is to paint this vessel into the likeness of an unassuming civilian girl as part of a contingency plan. Her mission is to practice for an orchestra that will perform if the Kyuubi gives Konoha an encore.

  
  


The Kyuubi’s last performance was something they eased her into understanding.  Both Kushina and Minato perished while sealing it into their son, someone on the list of many who Rin is not allowed to make contact with because it would arouse suspicion and throw the entire plan.

  
  


She feels it all now. Paralysis, a bubble of nothing in her chest, furrowing brows, gritting teeth, and the letting go of the tension in her body. They were gone. At least, she tilts her face up to the ceiling, at least the war ended and they got married. They had a life in between the tragedies and that, even though it wasn’t quite enough, carries her on.

  
  


Her chest’s heaving smooths over to a normal cadence once more. No longer hidden under her wails, Rin could make out the faint murmur of television from downstairs.

  
  


With little grace and extremely pruned fingers, she dries and pulled on pajamas, matching cotton t-shirt and shorts. Sliding a haori over it all, Rin puts one foot on the ground, then the other in front of it, and repeated until she plants both feet at the base of the stairs. Just ahead, she makes out an incongruous bump in the silhouette of the couch.

  
  


From the corner of her eye, Rin notices that the first DVD is to the side of the main stack. How long was she soaking? The wrinkles in the pads of her hands say nothing but “a long time”.

  
  


Sakura looks too entranced in the way the characters touch, their blatant adoration, to notice the chill in the living room. A surprisingly tender sigh escapes Rin as she scoops the girl into a blanket and deposits the bundle into her lap, sitting on the couch herself. Sakura doesn’t remove her attention from the romantic comedy on the screen at all. Her little chest moves, albeit ever so slightly, to breathe and her circulatory system has a dull pulse, but Sakura still feels more like an oversized doll than a child.

  
  


Not that there was any shock to be felt about that at this point, Rin muses. She rests her chin on Sakura’s head, and before she knows it, falls asleep easier than she can remember it ever being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this started out as a Sakura-centric fic. Rin's just a whole lot easier to write right now. 
> 
> Should I save Shisui? Honestly, the fic was created bc I just want more Rin, but I love Shisui so much… best Uchiha. It would do nothing for the plot thematically, but hmmmmg
> 
> I had mixed feelings about setting the bathtub scene in the bathtub… but like bro, the shower is THE depressed introspection capital of the world.
> 
> The foundations of this chapter were written the same day the prologue was written and the fic was published. That being said, after creating an entire goddamn timeline that lines up with the canonical timeline and kneading out what I want the style of the fic to be, I'm going to go back and edit the prologue.
> 
> I'm so excited, y'all dont even know.


	3. something sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Civilian life with rin and sakura ( aka a child soldier and a ROOT operative try to be kids again)

Danzo is a busy man. He has his hands in all of the pots. ROOT, is a collective of many, but there are only so many places they can be at once. There would be no point to have an asset to handle the jinchuriki if one had to expend an operative just to monitor the thing at all times. Yet there he faced a dilemma. How to receive reports from the asset on a regular basis without triggering anyone’s alarms. 

  
  


Rin is the one to come up with the solution. It is on the second day she is awake, after they have  _ very carefully _ filled her in. If she is to play the house-aunt, she smooths out the rest of her sentence as if she is smoothing out an apron, why not tuck the reports into her house-aunt routine? Give her a book or a notepad or any kind of stationary really. She will write standard things in it -- to-do lists and the like -- and, however often they deem fit, crumple a page with notes about her “niece” into an inconspicuous bin. 

  
  


It is the pull-out garbage bin, the one closer to the back, that they settle on. At the end of every week, just after Sakura has been tucked away in bed, Rin rips out a small page of recent developments from her Mame-chan notebook (they were on sale) and tosses it in. It occurs to her later on that someone must be fishing it out, so she starts leaving small bags of snacks labeled “for the road” in there too. Those bags always disappear with the notes in the morning.

 

* * *

  
  


Just as both the novelty and the second week dies out, permission to go to the big library that shinobi also go to, the only public library in the village that’s worth its salt, is given. 

  
  


( Approval did not come alone, attached to it was an annex to the mission: keep an eye on the Uchiha, find their patterns, note any breaks in said patterns.

 

“Why does everyone look at the police like that?” Rin asks to fulfill her own curiosity, her report is an afterthought. None of the women of her block look up from their folding or painting or sewing. 

 

“Well,” a hardy almost-grandmother pulls an embroidery thread out of fabric to its most taut, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, you just moved here and all. But, you know this festival we’re preparing for, dear?”

 

When Rin doesn’t answer right away, another woman pipes up, “It’s to commemorate the Kyuubi attacks, almost four years ago, now. Oh, a big fox demon nearly wrecked this village to bits. A lot of it is secret, ninja policies and such, but we have our own theories.”

 

Their minds seem to be in sync, Rin thinks as another woman, pushing glasses up her nose, picks up, “My grandson, he’s a chunin now, mind you. He said that the Uchihas, they’re the clan with the fan kamon? He said that their eyes can control the darn demons.”

 

“Honestly, who else could have done it!” someone in the corner bitterly snaps out, “The only mystery here is why they’re still allowed to be here, founding clan or not.”  A chorus of housewives share their agreement, then shift to other gossip. Rin re-focuses on the sheet of canvas she’s painting.)

  
  


October winds rustle the trees, spilling wounds of red and orange leaves onto the road. The two girls look odd walking side by side. They wear matching red scarves, gifted by one of the neighborhood ladies after a festival meeting, but Sakura’s efficient steps make Rin’s wide swinging arms and legs look childish in comparison. In reaction to that splinter of insecurity, she takes Sakura’s hand in hers, adjusting shortening the arc of the swing to accommodate the smaller arm. The dead weight of Sakura’s now limp, resigned arm is noticeable.

  
  


“Ooh, I painted that one!” Rin points to one of the many banners on the way to the library that advertises the festival, “Does it look nice?” It is a surprising relief when Sakura’s head turns towards the sky and bobs once in confirmation. They walk the rest of the way in wind filled silence. Rin takes silent note of the shops they pass by: two laundromats right next to each other, a small theater, a dango shop, a grocer, a trade school for cobblers. 

  
  


Once they reach the library, Rin lets Sakura go explore while she registers for a library card. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the kid toddle off in the direction where most of the shinobi are browsing. The paper-nin clerk comes to the counter before she can do anything about it.

  
  


Sakura finds her way back to Rin as she’s perusing the hobby book section. Rin sees her selection of low level shinobi technique books, presumably the only ones available for a pre-genin to check out, and rests a doting hand on Sakura’s head, squatting down to eye level, “ Mmm, I’m glad you are pursuing your passions, but let’s get something more appropriate for someone your age, okay?” A nod and nothing else.

  
  


“Do you need help putting the books back where you found them?” A shake. She still does not move.

  
  


“Okay, well, after you put them away, why not check out the children's books over there?” She points, and Sakura’s head follows before giving another, final nod before she trods off again.

  
  


They return home with a backpack filled with magazines, chapter books, parenting books, and cookbooks.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


She can say the words of a little girl, and though her intonation leaves much to be desired, it’s her muscles that ruin the facade. Her face is all too openly filled with nothing. There is no hesitance in her movement that would hint at the normal development of someone her age. All the instinct was worked out of her before it had the chance to settle into her bones.

  
  


Rin pushes these thoughts to the back of her mind and flips on through a pre-teen girl’s magazine as she stirs a pot of curry, the roux cubes for which were on sale, a November special.

  
  


_ ‘Hey Blossom readers! Want to be part of a collaborative creative effort, discover yourself, or become someone else entirely? You’re in luck. Many female theater troupes have been popping up across the nations. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the next star of a formerly all-male night sky! Here are some of the biggest names in the business… ‘ _

  
  


Theater, huh? That might work.

  
  


By some miraculous stroke of luck, the theater she saw on the route to the library is run by a retired musumeyaku who teaches three days a week. 

  
  


“The industry is almost entirely a hereditary business. It’s hard for kids born outside of old-guard families to break in, even for fun, so when I moved back to my wife’s hometown, I decided to open up my own classes,” the theater teacher says as she studies Sakura, “My troupe specialized in more of the kabuki- kyogen style plays, real expressive. Good for shy kids like this one.”

  
  


Rin thinks it might make the rest of the interaction awkward if she tries to correct the woman, so she leans into the presumption, “That’s perfect! Her parents have been looking for a way to get her out of her shell.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The classes, reports, and library trips start to become a routine. 

  
  


_ The structure of routines give children a sense of security and control that allow for them to self realize, _

a parenting book she borrowed on her second visit to the library had read, and Rin could believe it. Each day it seems, she weaves the warps and wefts of a persona tighter around herself.

  
  


Her first theater performance makes it clear she knows how to make facial expressions. They lack the finesse of nuanced emotion, yet she shines from the stage in her starring role as the old man in  _ The Story of the Umbrella Jizo _ . Members of the audience, mostly family members of the ten or so children in the play, congratulate Sakura afterward, expecting to find someone equally as animated as her onstage character. Instead, they find a shrinking violet hiding behind Rin’s leg. It usually ends with awkward, guardian-to-guardian chat. Sometimes, their pity melts through their face when Rin says that, sadly, Sakura’s parents weren’t here tonight.

  
  


When the two eventually make it out of the theater, Rin stops Sakura as she turns towards the house, pointing her thumb over her shoulder in the opposite direction, “Actually, I was thinking we could get a treat to celebrate.”

  
  


They only have to endure a few storefronts’ worth of the late December cold before arriving at the shop. All but one of the tables are full.

  
  


“Excuse me, do you mind if we sit with you?” Rin asks the lone occupant, a tan overcoat-wrapped sixteen-year-old with a pensive face.

  
  


Immediately, the occupant’s face snaps up from her bowl of zenzai, expression changing to an achingly familiar grin, “Sure.”

  
  


Sakura decides on anmitsu, and after it arrives, doesn’t put her spoon down. Next to her, Rin makes conversation with their tablemate,  who introduces herself as Anko Mitarashi. The unease she feels about Anko’s hitai-ate settles as she digs into a plate of strawberry daifuku. Leaving the conversation now, just to avoid shinobi contact, would be the exact opposite of covert. 

  
  


A couple times throughout the conversation, Rin eyes Anko’s peculiar flipped up collar and the lone buttoned top button just below her laryngeal prominence, though she eventually just writes it off as another of the girl’s eccentricities. Anko makes her laugh, a lot, throughout the time they spend at Dango-Ya. When they finally part ways, only because the shop is closing for the night, the teens promise to meet up again soon. 

  
  


(They do.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


“What you were like when you were younger?” 

  
  


“Well,” Rin shifts from her cushion on the other side of the couch, exchanging her book for her tea on the coffee table, “Is there anything in particular you want to know?” 

  
  


“Nope!” she pops the “p” sound too loudly.

  
  


Lately, Sakura has been asking more things like this. It’s like she’s parroting the personality quizzes from  _ Blossom _ magazine. Actually, Rin is pretty sure she’s read that particular question last week, but she indulges Sakura anyways.

  
  


“Well, I was the bestest of friends with a boy who had big dreams. I had to patch him up a lot.”

  
  


“Did you fall in love?” That must be the shojo manga talking.

  
  


“Mhm! With a very moody, but brave boy.”  _ Kakashi _ . The name rang out like a clear bell in her mind. He was still out there in the village, alive and hopefully well. Rin considered for a moment if, at the end of all of this, she would still have a chance with him. No, she cut off any of her hopes, she threw away that chance when she threw herself on his chidori. She made him break his promise.

  
  


“What’s so interesting about your mug?”

  
  


“I was just thinking about how it is your bedtime!”

  
  


“Nooo!”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The hours of sunlight are almost at their shortest the day Rin decides to take a more meandering route from the store on the way back to pick Sakura up from the theater. The scarce sun makes her want to stay outside longer, enjoy it to its last drop, even in the biting cold. Memories guide her steps all the way to the academy. She puffs out hot clouds of breath as she stares at its doors, bits and pieces of her conversation with Sakura the other day coming back as each cloud dissipates. As she readies herself to leave, Rin finally registers the soft sobs that barely warble out behind her. Whoever is crying is probably on the swing, she knows and turns around. 

  
  


A blonde boy sits exactly where she suspected. He’s all roughed up; there are vague splotches of red here and there on his face and his orange clothes look like he spent the day tumbling down the side of Hokage Rock, but she deduces it was other children who did this. The faint chakra signatures from above him, hidden in the leaves of the big tree that the swing is tied to, light up her brain. Her logical side screams  _ Don’t do this, don’t do this. This could ruin everything and - _

  
  


She hears him start to sniffle, and under his breath, he says, “I’ll show them. I’ll be their Hokage one day.” And, _ oh god _ , he is wearing goggles too. 

  
  


The snow barely has time to compact below her feet as they carry her to him.

  
  


“Hey there,” she says quietly, trying her best not to frighten him or his… companions. Big, blue watery eyes stare up from a whiskered face. His body becomes more rigid and defensive. Well, as rigid as they can be when he’s shivering under threadbare clothes. Swiftly, Rin unloops her red scarf, resisting a flinch as fingers of frigid air brush against her neck, and places it around the boy. As her hands come back towards her, she uses the small cache of chakra she can access to heal the cuts, scrapes, and bruises that mar his face. The fabric of the scarf hiding her hands’ green glow. 

  
  


She pulls back, puts a finger to her lips with a smile, and runs to go pick up Sakura from across town. Rin feels more alive, more like herself than any other time since she  _ woke up _ woke up. The boy is left wide-eyed, rubbing his fingers against the warm cloth to confirm what just happened was real.

  
  


* * *

  
  


In preparation for the block’s New Year mochi pounding get-together, Rin follows a recipe card she copied down from a book,  _ Cuisine from the Borders _ . It compiled stories and recipes the wayward author collected on his travels through towns close to either side of the Land of Fire’s borders. What it said on the tin. The first chapters were a road trip through the continent, Land of Hot Water all the way to Land of Rivers. Most of those were accounts of delicacies that were one, very likely to be very illegal, and two, going to be very hard to find in the navel of the Land of Fire.

  
  


One of the last chapters wrote of a Land of Whirlpools. Almost all of the recipes here, save for the ones that included specific species of fish, were familiar household must-cooks in Konoha. There was one recipe, the recipe that now rests on her recipe card, that caught her eye-- an elaborate, spicy dish usually served at celebrations. 

  
  


_ The heat makes you cry out your sorrows and clear your sinuses so that you can properly enjoy festivities. _

  
  


Grocery shopping had been a feat. She gave the responsibility of finding the first fourth of the ingredients to Sakura, who looked like she was itching to show off her Mame-chan purse. The other three-fourths took Rin to all of the grocers in the civilian sector in pursuit of obscure spices and exotic roots. 

  
  


It seems Sakura had trouble that day too, Rin notices when the bag of the last ingredient on her list has a note taped to it.

  
  


_ No Serranos. Read this is a good substitute. _

  
  


She does not, however, have any problem with spelling it seemed.

  
  


The house is quiet with only the dull, repetitive  _ thump _ of the vegetable knife against bamboo cutting board. It’s been this kind of quiet more frequently in the last month and a half. With the knife, she pushes the last of the onion into a dish for later. 

  
  


Her eyes sting when she pulls out the replacement peppers. No, the knot that sits in her stomach tells her, it's not a late reaction to the onions. The squatty and bright crimson chilis are a nostalgic sight, not for any particular meal she had, but her sensei’s girlfriend’s nickname.

  
  


Ah, well that’s why tears are welling up in her eyes, isn’t it? “The Red Hot Habanero” isn’t her sensei’s girlfriend’s nickname anymore. Now, it is the nickname of her  _ late _ sensei’s  _ late wife _ . 

  
  


She tries to just keep preparing the ingredients, just keep chopping the peppers, but the thoughts won’t stop. The nickname is probably on a gravestone Rin -- who has been in the village for how many months now? -- hasn’t even stopped by. Kushina loves-- Kushina loved cooking, and oh that tense change hurts Rin. 

  
  


The tears start to blur her vision, making this simple act of cutting peppers even more difficult. Rin drops the knife on the cutting board and leans against the counter. Nothing feels alright, so she lets her back slide down until eternity passes, and she’s sitting on the floor. She reaches to wipe away the tears when her wrist is caught by a small hand in black gloves.

  
  


Sakura looks blank again. Wearing an unfamiliar all black outfit, she is incongruent to the little girl she’s been for the last few months. Time pauses as Rin places the puzzle pieces together. Sakura seemed to have a solid enough personality, so Danzo wanted to make use of his operative. She notices splatters on Sakura’s clothes shimmer with blood. Oh. 

  
  


“You still have pepper juice on your fingers.” It’s said without any inflection whatsoever, but the sentence makes Rin start to cry for a different reason.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to foreshadow what's in store in future chapters, but I have no idea what's in store in future chapters. Solution: leave a lot of checkov's guns everywhere. Will they ever go off? I don't know either.
> 
> I dislike OCs in fics because I cannot, for the life of me, ever remember if a character is canon or not. Thus, theater teacher will never have a name.
> 
> I SWEAR next chapter we'll get some Sakura POV... and more new characters :^)
> 
> ALSO, update came out later than expected because I was busy making art... for other people's fics. ANYWAYS, [here's](https://ladykatsuwu.tumblr.com/post/182904254528/baby-you-are-my-angel) my design for mghs!Rin


	4. a peach tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o to Postscratch, the only naruto blog i follow on tungle dot com! stan sakura.

The barracks are alive with shadows that have their own shadows, all gliding across the concrete without a sound. They are, always have been, cogs in a singular machine, and there is no reason equipment return should be any different tonight. 

 

For a certain girl, a one night mission is a rhythm she has learned by rote. Orders are given, she follows them, and then she leaves to resume her other assignment. Lately, she’s been sent out with three recruits. It’s easy to tell; they get bored on the way to and from the location. They like to make small talk -- things like “our target’s got a weird shaped mole on his back” or  “we passed by a cute dog earlier”.

 

She thumbs the gloss of her mask, not out of fondness for the bird likeness, but to search for cracks or scratches or other imperfections that would threaten the integrity of the porcelain. 

 

“Uguisu.” Bush warbler, her mask’s motif, just another one of many code names. 

 

The deep timbre of the horse-masked guard’s voice breaks through the air as if a barb through flesh. ( Gradually, and then the surfaces is broken and there is no going back.) The three others in the room take this as permission to also make noise and their shuffles become more noticeable. She lifts the mask to her face, then back down again, in question.

 

“There is no need, Danzo-sama has called for you to come earlier than usual.” 

 

She puts the rest of her equipment away: mask, cap-like hood, tipless tanto, cloak, flak jacket, guards, pouches, and straps. Her body feels ten pounds lighter in her remaining fitted black long sleeves, tapered pants, and mid-calf shoes.

 

As she leaves, she catches a glimpse of the others who watch her too. They are her age or maybe older, though none have yet lost that particular warble of the pupil just yet. Their lips barely touch, as their jaw looks more slack than in the earlier silence. The skin just under the arch of their eyebrow is stretched. She has never been called from the equipment room early, so they must not have known about the “usual”. Is this surprise? Curiosity? Judgement? Perhaps there is a catalog of each slight contraction of facial muscles and the combinations, their meanings. She will have to check.

  
  


She is walking to the respectful spot two yards from Danzo’s feet, and then she is crouching with a hand on the ground and the other on her knee. The in-between is more precise than dropping. Dim blue light puddles on the wood floor.

 

“As you know, Hashirama’s lineage presents itself differently in you than it did in Kinoe,” Danzo says ‘Kinoe’ in an unprecedentedly harsh manner, “This does not excuse anything. From here on out, you will undergo monthly physicals conducted by Orochimaru. Make use of your time and study this.”

 

He lifts a mundane-looking, unlabeled scroll up, but not forward, so she rises to accept it in a way that seems to honor it too much.

 

“A copy of the original for the copy. How fitting,” Orochimaru calls out as he removes himself from one of the entrances to a tunnel leading down, down into distant darkness. 

 

What follows is a methodical series of glorified poking and prodding. She recalls being subjected to a similar routine of exams before she was assigned the mission. Odd for a researcher to leave that large of a  gap between otherwise punctual and meticulous data collection.

 

The scroll is also familiar. Back when Kinoe was still around and the two trained together (his presence became scarcer and scarcer until he was gone entirely) he’d bring a scroll full of all the Mokuton secrets and techniques Danzo managed to recover. The one she has just been given is a paltry substitution. A substantial portion of the most pertinent information to her is missing. Whoever copied it over -- likely a young Kinoe judging by the juvenile script -- skipped jutsus here and there, choosing to focus on the flashier ones, then stopped writing anything down entirely.

 

More of the same for Sakura: deduce, use clues, figure it out by herself, save the theories for later.

 

* * *

 

“ _ Blend in with the ordinary. Become like Ume.” _

 

Disappearing into the crowd, one more drop of water in a cup, is easy. She can control how much of her hand she shows at a time under the cover of anonymity. Find the average inputs and outputs. This is, functionally, mutually exclusive with the second task.

  
  


Ume always does nice things without command or coercion. She’s always looking for these types of things to do for people, restlessly, open-heartedly. Sometimes it's met with thanks. Sometimes the recipient never notices. Sometimes it’s to fulfill someone’s material need. Other times Ume’s kindness is to change someone’s mood for the better. None of this  _ should _ be so unpredictable, but how does Ume just  _ know _  what to do? How does she make that jump of understanding?

  
  


It's too abstract.

  
  


Sakura, for the time being, has decided to think of this central thing she needs to achieve as intentional compassion. After all, somebody had to come up with the term “chakra” at one point in history. 

  
  


It seems to be a running theme in Sakura’s existence that if something cannot be drawn out naturally, it must be done so synthetically. 

  
  


The key step to the entire procedure is for her to pull away from her own eyes, leave a space in her reflexes. From the inky depths of her mindscape, she views the world from something akin to a viewfinder. When she does, it's like she can increase her shutter speed, effectively seeing in slow motion. More time to examine a situation.

  
  


Sakura has found that when she hides behind Ume, she has a greater allotment of time to study what to do (most of the time, it is just to copy Ume's reaction). Shy, people call Sakura and wave off her behavior.

  
  


A neighborhood granny dies in the summer; they hold her funeral on a day stranded in a heat wave. There is no waiting for properly sorrowful weather because the skies do not change to reflect the hearts of men.

  
  


Ume dives into the planning and preparations. The first time she and Sakura spend more than twenty minutes together in two days is at the wake. Her eyelids are already rubbed raw and cheeks still moist before more tears spill out.

  
  


Doing the same is easy enough. Just like wetting her corneas except with a lot more excess basal tears. Though, as she looks around, Sakura thinks she's missing something.

  
  


Anko takes the bowl from Ume when she hears a knock. “Ooh, is that one of your gentlemen callers?” she teases, lightly flicking dorayaki batter with the whisk. Ume wipes it off of her face with a dismissive laugh and rushes off to answer the door.

  
  


From the kitchen, she can hear a young man’s voice, “Mom thought I should bring these over. I’ve got no sisters, and my brother’s dead set on marrying a kunoichi, so we figured you might make use of these. She had some smaller ones, your niece’s size, but she donated those to the orphanage along with the plain ones before we met.”

  
  


“This is so generous! Thank you,” Ume replies politely.

  
  


“I put something else in there too. It reminded me of you at the market,” his voice starts to waver, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to-”

  
  


Ah, this is where she should probably step in. In the deepest voice she can manage, still a touch too feminine but just vague enough to scare him off, Anko calls out, “Ume-chan, let’s get the dorayaki on the griddle before they send me on another mission.” That isn’t a lie. This is the first time Anko has managed to make time to come visit her dear, sweet civilian friend who none of the other jōnin believe actually exists. Joke’s on them. She hears the door close after a hurried goodbye.

  
  


“He’s a sweet boy,” is all Ume says about him when she puts the unwieldy cardboard box down on her dinner table. 

  
  


Anko flips a pancake, “What’s in there?”

  
  


“Dresses. You know, the style with the Mandarin collars? There’s also a-” Ume pulls out an iridescent glass bottle with a matching crystal blossom stopper and dabs a drop onto her inner wrist, “ Perfume? It smells like… like peach and… hm.”

  
  


“You should really be more careful about gifts, you know. That could be like, poison or something,” she flips the last pancake from the pan onto a plate.

  
  


“But I have you here to keep me safe.”

  
  


“Mm _ hm _ . Sure, sure, that’s totally what you thought about before you put it directly on your skin.”

  
  


“I know you would do the same exact thing.”

  
  


“I’m a  _ jōnin.  _ Elite, baby. Can’t kill me that easily.”

  
  


“Come over here and help me figure what the other scent is.”

  
  


Anko takes Ume’s wrist, holding it up to her nose. “I think it's tea. White tea? Oh! You should come over to my place for a tea ceremony. They’re fun.”

  
  


Ume flinches slightly at her touch, which is kind of adorable and also kind of stings. She hides her hands behind her back and the fluster in her face seems to diffuse.

  
  


With an award-winning smile, Ume says, “I’ll look forward to that.”

 

* * *

 

“Ume-nee-san, I think I want your hair”

  
  


“What was that?”

  
  


“I think,” Sakura pauses to rearrange the words, “I want to make my hair like yours”

  
  


Ume’s face relaxes. “That's a relief, I quite like not being bald.” A wink. That’s her cue to laugh, Sakura has learned, and she does. It comes out choppy, a bad laugh track that hasn’t been looped right, but it still earns her a thumbs up from Ume.

  
  


“Well, I’m just about finished with this,” Ume places a small piece of wood down next to a kunai on a tray beside her, “ I’ll grab the scissors and cape from inside.”

  
  


Sitting in Ume’s place and dangling her feet over the engawa, Sakura picks up the wood from a pile of curly-cue wood shavings. It looks like it used to be a block from a toy Sakura never plays with. Ume has whittled it into a crude bird. The shavings will likely fuel another one of Ume’s hobbies, pulp for papermaking or ash for soap making and the garden.

  
  


Just a few more moments pass by until Ume returns, kneeling to wrap the cape around Sakura.

  
  


“We can’t match exactly yet since you have bangs. We need to let it grow out a little,” she says, starting to snip away at Sakura’s split-end ridden, waist long hair. 

  
  


Sakura has never sat through a haircut like it was its own event before. Her aforementioned bangs were a spur-of-the-moment solution to inconvenience during training. Other than that, she never cared about the rest of her hair; a generous handful of Root operatives, like Hinoto for example, left theirs long too. Besides, hers was completely covered by her hood on missions. A pink buzz cut was after all, still pink.

  
  


“What do you think?” Ume holds out a hand-held mirror.

  
  


How do six-year-old girls react when they get what they want? Positive. Excitement. Appreciatory. She flips through her mental binder, each reaction like a playing card slipped into plastic pockets on a page.

  
  


Eyebrows lift, eyes widen, corners of the mouth raise, “I love it!”

  
  


“Then, let’s commemorate the moment with a photo!”

  
  


She points a camera towards herself with one arm, beckoning Sakura to lean in closer with the other. From the corner of her eye, Sakura catches Ume pressing a peace sign towards her cheek and copies with both hands.

  
  


“Hah! That’s exactly what I used to do,” Ume says when she reviews the photo.

 

* * *

 

The weather on Sakura’s academy entrance day  is a sunny reprieve from weeks of dreary overcast gloom. Or maybe that is just Ume’s mood leaking into her physical reality.

  
  


The older girl is more animated today. She laid out a full spread breakfast, more elaborate than usual, and kept dropping obviously obvious hints about how pretty Sakura’s bento is. She also tried to doll Sakura up as best she could, baby pink long sleeves with a big navy bow on the shoulder and striped leggings in the same colors. When Ume actually looked out the window, looking past the near-blinding light that flooded through, she remembered the two foot deep blanket of snow. With playful poutiness, she bundled Sakura up in a rosy parka and red scarf.

  
  


The closer they get to the Academy, the further away Ume’s eyes get. It is fortunate she insisted on holding hands, since on more than one occasion, Sakura has to tug her hand back to prevent her from running into things. Her eyes only come back into the present as they stand in front of the Academy’s gates. 

  
  


“Be good for your teachers and make tons of friends!”

  
  


Sakura is corralled with all the other little boys and girls. Its fine. She doesn’t know how to answer that anyway. Breaking promises are bad, she’s been told.

  
  


As the dean of the Academy reads off the names of the new students, Sakura observes the children around her. The fidgeting mass of orange catches her attention immediately. It’s not for his appearance, though she thinks that would be a valid reason. Something about his chakra makes her want to do something violent. Annoying, she decides to label him. It absolutely does not help that she realizes his scarf matches hers, which reminds Sakura that she has not seen Ume wearing her  _ intentionally  _ matching one lately. Sakura turns her head away before an incident has the chance to occur.

  
  


Almost every major ninja clan has a kid in her year, many clan heirs too. Except it's not a clan heir who catches her eye next, it’s one Sasuke Uchiha. She’s seen his file, been assigned a sub-mission to “keep an eye” on him. The second son is wide-eyed at the whole affair, staring at the Sandaime -- who is now giving a speech about the Will of Fire and three Academy entry requirements -- with reverence.

  
  


The ceremony ends shortly after because no five or six year old would ever pay attention to someone after  _ the _ Hokage gave a speech. They hand out manila envelopes to each child as they file out the gates, telling them to fill them in to enroll. Sakura decides to give the forms a once-over as she waits that few seconds before Ume arrives.

  
  


At the top, the three main requirements are listed once more:

  
  


  1. Love the village and hope to help preserve peace and prosperity.
  2. Have a mind that will not yield, able to endure hard training and work.
  3. Be healthy in mind and body.



  
  


After she and Ume fill out the paperwork with their definitely legitimate information, it's another week before school really starts. 

  
  


On a bulletin board just inside the gates, the class rosters are listed. There are six pages, six whole classes, just for the first years, and every year after that loses an entire class worth’s of names. So, Sakura calculates, she will stay within the top seventeen percent. Not hard at all. A bit higher, say top five or ten percent, will lend her name more credibility in her genin and chunin years. If her mission lasts that long.

  
  


There is only one clan kid in her class and it is not Sasuke Uchiha, which is fine for now. All that matters is that she is not in the same class as the orange who, she has deduced, is Naruto Uzumaki, the container she must contain if worst comes to worst. Being in the same room as him already sounds like the worst case scenario.

 

* * *

 

‘ _ It feels like I’m playing house,’ _ Rin thinks one day, as she half-heartedly scrubs a plate from breakfast, ‘ _ Am I really doing anything to protect the village?’ _

  
  


Kushina and Minato come to mind first. She hasn’t seen their son yet, she’s not even allowed to see his photo, but she thinks that she would trade her spot in the world of the living for either one of theirs. What an awful student she is, hasn't even paid her respects at their graves.

  
  


There's also Kakashi, her mind reminds her again. She traces her finger along the outline of a warm, girlish feeling that used to be there. Now she just wants someone who knows what is was like at the Kannabi Bridge, someone who will understand her when she asks about the Yondaime's short tenure. Knowing him, or the him from years ago, he's pushed himself deeper into the grimier side of shinobi work. Anbu, then. Maybe if she asks Danzo, she could join him there.

  
  


And then she grabs another plate. It’s Sakura’s. A melamine plate with bunny-rabbit cartoon characters on them, one of the few not branded by Mame-chan. 

  
  


Sakura isn’t just an ANBU operative, she’s in ROOT. Rin doesn’t really know what ROOT is, but she knows in her gut that it's more secretive and dangerous. That same gut knowledge raises an accusatory voice at her. Who would take care of Sakura if not her? Another ROOT operative? Someone else they know is loyal to the village? 

 

“Sakura is a  _ child _ and a child during  _ peacetime _ no matter how emotionless she has been raised. I’ll follow my orders for the good of the village, but I  _ will  _  help her have the childhood the papers say she has!” Rin screams back, except her voice hasn't reverberated back like it usually does in the kitchen. Her throat doesn't hurt at all, why would it? There’s been no strain on her vocal cords. She has a headache all the same.

  
  


The cabinet with the trash cans looks menacing.

  
  


After all the dishes are clean and away, Rin does a thrice-over search of the house. There are still no seals except her own.

 

* * *

 

Sakura, despite the full social circle she has inherited from Ume, sits alone the entire first week… and then the second. Her theatre classmates have either forgone the academy altogether, electing instead to go the vocational route and join a troupe, or were scared off from the time Ume invited Anko to a production. Her hair does not aid her cause. 

  
  


“Billboard brow,” Ami sneers. That girl was quick with nicknames. Ume had clipped up Sakura’s bangs  _ once _ to “spice things up a bit” and, like a hawk seeing rabbit ears from above, Ami saw a forehead.

  
  


It works out all the better for Sakura, and she slides into her own assigned role, putting a tree trunk between herself and the other girls. The tremors in her body are of a dramatic magnitude. They have to be, after all, as shaking from geniune fear is too subtle for someone so young to notice. Ami seems to be satisfied by this and crosses her arms, the girls that flank her side copy her movements.

  
  


Ami leans in, “Your hair’s too weird and bright to be a ninja, i-di-ot.”

  
  


“Quit while you’re ahead!” the girl on the right adds.

  
  


Just as left girl is about to contribute, an apple core lands on her nose.

  
  


A blonde girl jumps down after, “A kunoichi also has to be pretty and pleasant, which'll be harder  for you to change about yourself.” She sticks her tongue out and watches as the trio storm off. Then, she pokes her head around the tree to meet Sakura's eyes. Startling blue meets startling green.

  
  


A peach falls from a branch, still unripe and hard. “Weird,” the blonde girl says looking up at the mass of pink flowers, catching it in time. “These shouldn't even be starting to fruit yet.” Waiving off the anomaly and switching the peach to her non dominant hand, she remembers what she was about to do.

  
  


“Ino Yamanaka!”  Ino sticks her hand out with childish enthusiasm, “Let's be friends!” Yamanaka, Ino rings a bell. Same class, absent until now.

  
  


“O-okay,” Sakura takes her hand, limply, “I'm, um, Sakura.”

  
  


Ino shakes firmly,  still sticky-fingered from her apple.

  
  


“You know, they pick on you because you hide it, right ‘Billboard brow’?”

  
  


“Oh.” 

  
  


That recieves a sigh.

  
  


“You know what?-” 

  
  


Sakura is about to ask because she does not, in fact, know “what”.

  
  


“I’ll give you this ribbon.” She pinches one end of a red slip of fabric.

  
  


“You’re cute! Don’t be afraid.”

 

* * *

 

Rin receives a nice surprise that night over dinner. Anxious to know that Sakura  _ has _ friends at school, but not wanting to push her into talking about something she doesn’t want to, Sakura’s announcement of the “cute, strong, fashionable, and kind” Ino Yamanaka comes as a relief.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, I’ll be in the backyard if you need me,” Ume says as she places a plate of fanned-out peach and melon slices in front of the girls. Summer humidity sticks to every surface of the house, and the chilled fruit is a last stand of sorts. The electric fan cuts through the thick, wet air, but changes nothing. 

  
  


“Thanks, Ume-nee,” they reply in unison and giggle upon realization.

 

Being with Ino is as easy as being with Ume, which is saying quite a lot, since Ume actually knows what Sakura is. But the statement holds true, truer than the love’s kiss that breaks the princess’s curse.

  
  


Ino has the same open-book feel to her as Ume, just a more selective kindness. The phases of her facial journey are more exaggerated and easier to follow. Sakura likes to watch them pass by. She still keeps track of them for future reference; there’s just another dimension to consider now, the little things.

  
  


They are seventy-five percent done with their worksheet, a fill-in-the-blank reading comprehension check, when faint banging sounds begin.

  
  


“Huh?” Ino puts her hands on the desk to better angle her line of vision out the window, “What's she doing?”

  
  


“I think she's making a wardrobe. Last week it was a chair an’ she gave it to the lady two doors over.”

  
  


“That's cool! Everyone in my clan always just leaves it to the artisans.”

  
  


“She likes making things herself from scratch. I think this time  it's because she read about a girl who lives by herself in the woods,  thought it was neat.”

 

* * *

 

“Heaven’s garments are without seams,” Danzo said, has said, every time she receives an injury. His voice is always solid even though the words themselves are just the echoes of echoes -- Tobirama's tales of Hashirama told in the lulls of war, failed attempts to humanize his elder brother.

  
  


She is not without seams. Hashirama's lineage has granted her the ability to heal near instantaneously but falls just short of scars. This doesn't humanize her, not in Danzo's eyes, just flares a sense of inferiority.

  
  


Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough. He is demanding that she prove her divinity. Never good enough.

 

* * *

 

Ino wants to go shopping together. She says it's sweaty outside. It's sweaty outside and Sakura's long clothing will only make her sweatier. Being sweaty is not fun or cute at all.

  
  


“Can girls with arms like mine wear short sleeves? And skirts?” she asks one night in as they silently read together on the couch. Would it be unwise to reveal her scars just to develop a relationship?

  
  


“Well, people might start wondering where they came from-” Oh, Ino will be disappointed. Sakura nods meekly and returns to her book.

  
  


“- but,” Ume continues, now holding Sakura’s hands between her own, “we can do something about that.” She smiles, receiving a nod of consent laced with interest and caution. A faint green glow wraps her palms; it increases in intensity until it is almost opaque. The green spreads like butter on Sakura’s arm, both on and trailing Ume’s hands as they slowly hover from the distal end to the proximal one.

  
  


“Scars aren’t bad,” Ume says as the pale lines are wiped away by her medical chakra, “ They aren’t. They have meaning sometimes, survival, victory, determination. But we all need to heal, and sometimes leaving our scars behind is part of that process.”

  
  


There was one thing Sakura learned about medical chakra outside of a textbook: it was unnecessary. In Root, you live on or you succumb to your wounds. There is no merit in being deadweight, no sentimentality for the rest of your squad to keep you alive. A procedure like this one, wholly and unapologetically cosmetic, is so useless in combat. 

  
  


The scars never “meant” anything before, except a need to improve maybe. The blankness of her limbs now, feels like a great, swelling tide of something complex.

 

* * *

 

Saturday before the last week of the semester, Ino keeps  their fingers intertwined the entire trek through downtown Konoha. Light-footed, they dance through the crowds of people out for the weekend. Ducking under grocery bags, around families, crossing the road just in time not to get hit by someone’s cart.

  
  


“This’s the only one that has what we're looking for”, Ino said, pointing to a skinny stairwell squished between two other shops fat with customers.

  
  


The shop is just as crowded inside as the real estate outside,  yet it is a far more vivid sight to behold. Brilliant garments -- silk, brocade, crepes, damask, sateen, taffeta -- filled the room from one corner to the other. That it is a specialty shop is to say the least. Most, if not all, of the goods are from outside the Land of Fire. It looks like sometime ago they were neatly labeled by region and dress-maker. Again, it must have been sometime ago. Now, the signs are more like buried treasure. You dig deep enough down through the glittering fabric and congrats! You know have the knowledge that was sewn by Kaori Mageshige in the Land of Hot 

Water. Oh, how this enriches your life.

  
  


Just above one mound of clothing, Sakura can make out the shopkeeper tapping a piece of cerulean fabric chalk against pouted lips as she listens to a regal looking customer.

  
  


“Here,” Ino announces, deservingly proud of herself for finding their destination in one go, “ these have the same look to them as the dresses your aunt wears a lot.” 

  
  


Frog fasteners and delicately embroidered fabric would stand out among the ranks of academy students. Alas, most would be like Ino:  suspect the unorthodox style of dress was a result of being civilian raised, and by a foreign family at that.

  
  


Ino deliberates for at least three hours before Sakura is freed from the dressing room with the stipulation that she bring the dozen remaining dresses to the register. The price is steep, but Yamanaka drives a hard bargain and shaves the cost down to something Sakura’s wallet can withstand.  It also helps that the shopkeeper considers the purchase to be a bulk order. 

  
  


When the two return to the house, a mass of garment bags larger than either girl in tow, Rin looks positively tickled. She examines each piece with admiration for the handy work and compliments their good taste.

  
  


After, Ino leaves for “some dumb clan thing”, Sakura juts her lower lip out.

  
  


“ Ino thinks it's good to dress like you and I agree, but the rounded collars aren’t  _ you  _ you…  like your bracelet! You wear  _ that  _ all the time, not the dresses,” she thinks about the entrance ceremony, “or the scarf.”

  
  


“Hm.” It’s that face again. That very knowing look.

  
  


The morning of the last day of the semester, Sakura walks down to the usual breakfast. Ume is there, on the other side of the table, with her own identical rice, miso, vegetables, and fish. The way she rests her cheeks in her hands, elbows on the table, is different. 

  
  


“I,” her smile grows wider, more bright, “have a surprise.” Sakura elects not to sit down just yet, instead of standing by for Rin to reveal what the surprise is.

  
  


Ume lifts a dress from an unzipped garment bag from the couch. It’s empire waisted, made from pink jacquard with the same ornate fasteners as the others. Everything is almost the same as it was when she bought it, she thinks, until her eyes catch on the skirt. 

  
  


A large white circle.

  
  


And when Ume turns the dress this way and that, Sakura sees smaller white circles on the outer hems of the sleeves.

  
  


“Just like your bracelet!”

  
  


“Well, I’d rather it be  _ our _ thing now. Our… Our own Haruno clan symbol.”

  
  


* * *

 

Crickets’ chirps blanket the afternoon just as thickly as crunchy sepia leaves at the edge of the forest. The evergreen scent grows stronger as she meanders deeper in. The stress she didn’t even know was there rolls off of her. Shinrin-yoku, a book called it, taking a walk through the woods to relax. It’s not really why she’s there, but it is a bonus.

  
  


Rin looks back in the direction she came from, checking the distance. Here  _ should  _  be good. Clutching at her woolen shawl to keep her chest covered from the slight breeze, she plops her wicker basket and heavily insulated thermos down. If she wasn’t mistaken, the slight yellowing of the red pine needles means there is a good chance matsutake are hiding somewhere under the litterfall. 

  
  


With Sakura off at the Yamanaka compound for a sleepover, Rin figures it is a good opportunity to try her hand at mushroom foraging. If she doesn’t find any, the only one who is disappointed in herself; if she does find some, she can show off the next time they come.

  
  


The hours pass her by quickly, both because she finds foraging enjoyable and because she forgot that the sun sets earlier in Autumn months. Fully standing up and squeezing her shoulder blades together with arms stretched behind her, Rin notices that the crickets have gone silent. Whether it happened long ago or just recently, she cannot place. 

  
  
  


There is a flicker in the distance. Rin walks towards it as she takes her first sip from her thermos, halting when she sees the flicker again, closer this time. She turns back in the direction of her basket, the direction she entered the forest from. Her heart starts pumping so violently, it shakes the whole of her body. She can no longer hear anything except her own breath. A treacherous cocktail of blood and dread flood her limbs.

  
  


It was a foolish choice, she realizes, to come here alone without anyone else knowing. Had she done something wrong? Did she fail her mission already and need to be taken out? Would they seal something within her again?

  
  


Another flicker.

  
  


Lurching back, she brings her nearly full thermos around in a wide arc in front of her. It connects with something hard, sticking for a moment before it resumes its path. 

  
  


She has been too complacent. She should have used her year to raise her stamina again. It is no use dwelling now, not with a crumpled form before her and her body paralyzed by exhaustion.

  
  


Rin looks down and sees double, though not in the conventional way.

  
  


Past superimposes itself on the present. He is around the same age and has the same shade of black hair, just curlier. The worst part is that his eyes, the lack of them, is just like Obito the last time she saw him. Her heart feels like a haunted house.

  
  


More bubbles of panic rise from the gastric acid and pop in her stomach because oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. She hit a blind boy in the head! There is a very real chance she has just killed a defenseless blind boy! She will be tried for murder and leave little Sakura all alone. If Obito is waiting for her in the Pureland, she is sorry to disappoint but she will not be getting in now! 

  
  


Against her better judgment, she leans down to check his pulse. Rin starts cardiopulmonary resuscitation when she does not find it. Each chest compression is an apology, and each resuscitative breath is a prayer. 

  
  


By the time she manages to get his chest moving on its own, with the full moon hanging overhead, it feels like hours have gone by. In her arms, it feels like days. 

  
  


Fighting fatigue, she drags him by the armpits to where the basket is. When she reaches to tug off his hitai-ate, his hand grabs her wrist and his eyebrows raise to emphasize his lucidness, “Kochu poison… No hospital… Please.” And then his face is slack again. 

  
  


She has already thrown logic to the wind tonight, what difference is one more time? Rin buries the hitai-ate under the matsutake, then shrugs off her shawl to wrap around his head and torso, covering up the majority of noticeable blood stains. The boy in one arm and her basket in the other, she takes a long route home because, despite the distance, it is entirely made of alleys and dim side streets. At least taking walks when Sakura is at class has paid off tonight.

  
  


This time of the evening the main roads are swimming with nightlife. Still, the offshoots are their own reef of danger. Drunks and drunk couples stumble their way into the dark with hands that grope more than they stay still. Smokers who want to isolate themselves as they finish one more installment of what started out as a social thing. Unlucky victims of irrational violence who rot in these alcoves like cave diving bodies until someone finds them. Except, Rin is keenly aware right now, being found will be the opposite of her salvation tonight.

 

* * *

 

A benevolent star shines down on them that night. That's the only way Rin can reason how she managed to run across town with the flour sack of a boy in her arms. There is no time to contemplate that now.

  
  


The soft hum of the comfort  _ home _ provides threatens to ruin her hard work. She pushes past it. Somebody needs Rin right now for the thing she does best. 

  
  


Behind the couch, there’s a clear space. Good. It’s just close enough to where she enters that she has enough energy to slide one of the closets open with her foot and take out a spare futon while still holding the boy up. After she lays him out, Rin confirms the bulk of his injuries is in his eyes. A thorough scan proves that whatever “Kochu poison” was in his body is completely gone now.

  
  


How long had he been out there? She is doing her damndest to limit how far the infection -- either transmitted from the mysterious Kochu or by virtue of having exposed eye sockets, maybe both -- spreads,  but she’s felt a burning fever on the boy since she performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

  
  


Caught up in the moment, the forgotten thrill of urgent healing, Rin doesn’t realize she’s already bandaging the boy’s eyes until she’s done. Then, the chakra exhaustion that sets in. 

 

* * *

 

Rin wakes to a stream of sunlight shot square into her pupils. She rubs the purple from her vision with the back of her hand and when it clears, there is Sakura with her Root face on (or maybe it's her Little Girl face off). Wondering what she's doing, just standing there like she's considering something, Rin looks to the side. Something cold runs down between the spikes that prickle her neck.

  
  


The boy.

  
  


Then, strange and anticlimactic in the yellow illumination of midday, Sakura lifts pinched fingers to one corner of her mouth and drags it to the other. Must have been a gesture she learned from Ino, something too relaxed in Rin thinks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god. i am very unsatisfied by this chapter, but if i look at this chapter any longer i'll punch a hole in my laptop screen. there's a part in the shopping bit where you can tell i was angry while editing.
> 
> i did a LOT of unnecessary research for this chapter. for example, i spent an entire evening trying to figure out how to justify shisui surviving death bug juice by looking at the different treatments for real poisonous caterpillars. i read scientific journals!!! anyways, i did not use ANY of that information. 
> 
> i also watched a bunch of those shippuden filler episodes to track the sakuino friendship. 1) there are a lot of continuity errors. 2) in episode 481 i think sakura has a statue of the virgin mary in her hideout? 
> 
> i am trying my best to keep rin in character, but her personality is like Absolute Angel, Empathetic, and Quick Thinking. well, you can see i'm trying to make the most of what i got.
> 
> also!!! i have more fic art. i drew them instead of working on the actual writing :-)
> 
> the hair cut: https://ladykatsuwu.tumblr.com/post/183359672003/might-fuck-around-might-make-more-art-for-my-own
> 
> end of semester outfit: https://ladykatsuwu.tumblr.com/post/183346809953/clohsoo


	5. the black hole

With every second Rin and Sakura spend locking eyes, the noon sun grows more and more lurid, accusatory almost. Disorienting and neon yellow.

  
  


It's odd. Sakura has acted completely unprovoked, without prior instruction. Rin doesn’t know what the girl’s previous life was like, hidden from the sun, though she doubts it included keeping secrets from Danzo or any authority figure. There is nothing to gain from keeping this secret either, and even if it did for Sakura, Rin doesn’t think she would be motivated by that.

  
  


Rin is not in the best position, but she decides to trust in Sakura’s silent promise. What other choice does she have? If she had another choice, would she even take it? Trust is one of the only things she has in this world to give freely.

  
  


She blinks to reset the wetness of her eyes and Sakura has made her way to the top of the stairs, already turning the corner to her room. As if a conductor raised their baton, her muscles lurch into a symphony. Her mystery boy has been in a questionable state for more than twelve hours at the least. His breath is so faint, Rin is not sure if it is even there at all.

  
  


He is breathing, good. Everything is downhill from there. As a ninja, he should be able to wake quickly at the slightest sense of danger. While she is in no way projecting blood lust, Rin finds it concerning that he is not responding to touch. Or her voice. If she had the chakra to expend, Rin would flare it, but there’s no point if he doesn’t react to baseline human stimuli. If he had eyes, Rin would look for the dilation of his pupils. 

  
  


Speaking of a lack of eyes, Rin inspects her drowsy work from last night. Honestly, it is a bit troubling to her that she can barely remember what she did after getting home. Peeling away his bandages gives her an awful, giddy feeling much like opening up a present.

  
  


Spreading his eyelids apart with her index fingers and thumbs, Rin observes much of the tissue that ripped -- presumably when his eyeballs were taken -- she had cut away and cleaned up. Thankfully, what little medical chakra she used last night was able to cauterize the socket. No puss or scabs, the socket is just slick pink flesh. 

  
  


Despite the good condition of his sockets, she missed steps to conclude his makeshift eye surgery. Rin has never had to complete a proper enucleation before; none of her patients ever needed preparation for a life after the loss of their eyeballs, so it isn’t muscle memory like the rest of the procedure. Immediately, the “excuse” makes her cringe. There is no point in beating herself up for something she did at the edge of physical and chakra exhaustion.

  
  


Somehow, without arousing suspicion, she needs to find something round, glass, and sterilized to use, at least as a placeholder, for his eyes. He is not available to give his opinion at the moment, but she assumes most people would like to maintain their eye socket size for future use. 

  
  


Then there is the issue with his unconscious state. None of her wartime medic training emphasized what to do in case of a coma because that ninja would, essentially, be useless on the battlefield. Plus, it is combat logic that the enemies attack to kill, not just debilitate. Out of sight, out of mind. It gives her goosebumps realizing that she never gave it much thought. From common sense, Rin presumes he would need at least an IV and the other… less savory catheters.

  
  


A hospital bed, she considers with a strained expression, would also be good for blood and cerebrospinal fluid flow. She can prop him up for long periods of time unlike with the futon he is lying flat on right now. 

  
  


After she brings him up to her room, in the least romantic bridal-style carry that anyone has ever done, Rin builds a majestic throne of pillows around him on her bed. It is tenuous at best. 

  
  


Ishibashi-baasan, Rin recalls, died last summer in the comfort of her own home after being bedridden for months. Knowing the family, she could buy the leftover nursing equipment off of them without seeming suspicious. If anything, she could say she’d like to be a nurse one day. It isn’t really a lie.

 

* * *

 

  
  


Second semester, Sakura notices, people start to treat Sasuke differently.

  
  


“I heard his brother’s killed someone.”

  
  


“Isn’t that just what all ninja’re supposed to do?”

  
  


“Nuh-uh, well, not this someone. I think it was a clan member!”

  
  


They whisper behind his back like they do with Naruto. Unlike the orange kid, however, they still let him play with them because, no matter how suspicious their parents are, the Uchiha are still a noble clan and the only remaining founding clan. Not people you want to risk being on the bad side of. More importantly for the children themselves, is the promise of the legendary Sharingan they might see in Sasuke’s eyes one day.

  
  


* * *

 

 

The deep winter of December snuffs out the last hurrahs of life for the year. Thankfully, this is not completely the case for the Haruno household. 

  
  


It is not regular or for very long, yet still the boy wakes now and then. Even though its just his eyes that open to nothingness, it's a sign of progress and a cause for celebration for Rin. He’s getting better.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Nothing, nothing, nothing is ever enough.

  
  


Sakura repeats that to herself as she lies on Root’s concrete floor again. No matter how long she stays there, no matter how many drops of water drip from somewhere in the distance, it never seems to warm to her temperature. 

  
  


“You’re not doing anyone any good by just lying there.”

  
  


Orochimaru saw her trying to put theory, though it was more like poetry in its incomplete state, into motion earlier in the Winter as he was repacking the equipment from her physicals. He stayed to watch every time afterwards. “I don’t answer to anyone, my time is my own,” he had said, grandly raising his arms out to display the lack of chains around them.

  
  


“I will return once I recover enough to resume my cover, Orochimaru-sama.”

  
  


“It’s just a comment, I won’t tell Danzo about, well.” He breaks off a branch of the lone, pathetic bonsai Sakura tried to grow. It snaps off with a sound more brittle than it should have been. 

  
  


Tapping the base of the branch with his nail, he says, “Mind if I take this back with me? It seems like you have collections of it already.”

  
  


It isn’t genuine question for her, she had already learned that from past interactions. Questions like those from people in power like him are never genuine questions. Just let them do it. 

  
  


“Hai.”

  
  


The clacking sounds of his nails on the branch stop abruptly.

  
  


“ _ Petrified _ wood will never satisfy Danzo, dear,” he says and slithers into the darkness.

  
  


* * *

  
  


With enough vigilance and care, Rin marks off her fifth month of taking care of her first coma patient without a single bed sore. Oh, there is no one to brag to about it, and yet the feeling can peel the cold right off of her.

  
  


Her garbage bin reports have grown shorter. The first reduction after the pepper incident, and the second after the boy in the woods incident (neither of which she included). She usually writes something along the lines of “ Sakura’s progress has been natural, no concerns” and a few things about the Academy. No one has said anything, so she’ll continue on with the one to two sentence notes.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Your aunt never comes around after class anymore,” a classmate's mom comments after theatre practice. It's been months since they gave up asking after her parents.

 

Ume doesn’t do all that much anymore besides take care of  _ that _ person (which is a task that, if you broke it down, would be many more tasks than what Ume did before), but Sakura can’t say that. 

  
  


“Mm, I told her I was responsible enough to come home one time by myself.” Sakura gives a quick wave and scampers off without waiting for a reply.

  
  


The house is stagnant without new things from Rin’s hobbies popping up around the house. A similar shared anticipation is rife among Sakura’s classmates and neighbors. Rumors about the Uchiha, although plentiful in the past, have intensified in the past year, filling Konoha’s leaves with hazy smoke.

  
  


Still water breeds mosquitoes.

  
  


* * *

  
  


May melts the cherry trees clean of their blossoms. They spill onto the walkways, turning to mush and rot beneath pedestrian feet. Rin makes her way around the house, closing the windows after the last cool breeze of the morning drifts in. Her last stop is  _ that _ room. There, the window isn’t open because, even seven months later, she is not sure if he would be safe if it was. The threat hangs above her head, taunting.

  
  


Instead, she brings in a fresh vase of flowers to liven things up -- perhaps add a touch of floral old factory stimulation. The vase is really a glass canning jar that lost its lid after she forgot to burp her pickles -- taking care of the boy distracted her from her usual time filling hobbies -- but at least the flowers are nice. They are a handful bouquet of lemon blossoms and lilies that Sakura brought home from school one day, leftovers from flower arranging no doubt. There were originally a few poppies in the mix, though they were all wilted before Rin had the chance to stick them in water.

  
  


The boy’s eyelids are splayed open across the glass eye - conformers already when she walks in. As Rin approaches the bedside table to set the vase down, she sees his mouth open. A weak, groan of a vocalization pushes through his throat. She watches it all as if it is happening at half the real speed, and yet it still catches her by such surprise that she drops the vase with too much force onto the table. It sticks the landing with a loud thump.

  
  


He yelps. Rin quickly grasps his closest hand, the right one, in an attempt to reassure him. Just in case he only responds to sound, she starts shushing quietly too. His voice grows quieter until he manages to make it come to a stop.

  
  


There are tears in her eyes, and she wishes that the cherry blossoms had hung on just a bit longer so that he could have enjoyed them this year too.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sakura can feel the air displaced from Ino’s swinging legs underneath the table brush her shins as the waitress places their desserts onto their table. Dango-Ya has become their go-to after school hangout ever since Sakura first treated Ino earlier in the Summer, a consolation for Ino’s particularly long lasting bloody nose during class. “Shaved ice will get the gross taste off of your tongue and the heat out of your system,” Sakura said and received a tight hug in return.

  
  


“Ah, this is the best,” Ino says, dragging each word out, only stopping to shovel another spoonful of dessert into her mouth.

  
  


“Mhm,” Sakura drags the sound out too, spoon still between her lips. Ino never points out when Sakura copies her. She notices, Sakura knows this because Ino notices (almost) everything. She even says so herself.

  
  


From her school bag, Ino pulls out a thick monthly shoujo anthology like routine. They pour over each panel of the manga, ooh-ing and ah-ing over the sugary, cliched romances, careful not to wet the pages with sweat or dessert.

  
  


The book is open to a page where the romantic interest suavely professes his devotion to the main character after leaving behind a future of certain success, inheritance or something. It's part of the final chapter of the series, the perfect point for Ino to stop and say, “ I wish the boys in  _ our _ class were this mature.”

  
  


“Can’t wait for my prince to find me,” Sakura nods, her words just a cut-out from something Ino said in a conversation a few weeks prior. She reaches to tighten her ribbon as Ino flips another page of the book.

  
  


“Ino-chan, your shaved ice is melting.”

  
  


 

* * *

  
  


By the tail end of Summer, the boy has a regular sleep schedule. The release of the sleep hormone is usually triggered by the eye’s reaction to light, so Rin thinks it has something to do with his body feeling the warmth of sunlight or not.

  
  


Besides the domestic fundamentals and the basic coma care, she has taken to reading to him. It is one part excuse to go to the library instead of staying in the house all day punctuated by grocery shopping every two to three days, and another part also coma care. Auditory stimulation can help speed up the healing process, or so she’s been reading.

  
  


Increasingly frequent, he has been lucid enough to answer a few simple yes-no questions at a time. “Did you like the story?” “Are you in any pain?” Any answer is a good answer for Rin.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Sakura!” Ino yells from her place two girls down the row of kunoichi-in-training. The unlucky pair in the path of her voice nearly fall over and ruin their far-from-perfect seiza position. Suzume pauses to look up from the girl whose finger’s she is moving to the correct position on the shamisen but brushes off the commotion to finish the instruction.

  
  


Lifting her eyes from the tablature on the floor, Sakura, still seated on her cushion, asks, “What is it, Ino-chan?”

  
  


“Y-you’re bleeding, forehead!” 

  
  


She is right: the fleshy pads of Sakura’s fingertips are all sliced up on both hands. Blood lacquers the shamisen in her arms and steeps into the tatami mats, running down the little channels between the straw the way a flood rushes a watershed. Ino has already set Sakura’s instrument down and is now holding one bleeding hand in both of her own. Her thumbs press onto the palm, while the rest of her fingers push onto the knuckles, opening it flat. The cuts are in full view.

  
  


“Oh. I am.”

  
  


By now, the rest of the class have left their seats to huddle around Ino and Sakura. They murmur shocked "uwah!"s and "oh my"s.

  
  


“Don’t act tough! I cut one of my fingers and it hurt,” Ino leans in so that their teacher, who has started to make her way over since the student in need of position correction has joined the crowd, cannot hear, “it hurt like hell! You can cry if you want, I won’t let Ami make fun of you for it. Actually, you should cry! No one’ll help if they don’t know you’re hurt.”

  
  


Suzume sends their classmates back to their assigned cushions before she is able to see the bodies of blood that decorate the landscape of her once spotless classroom.

  
  


“Sakura,” the usual edges of her voice are rounded off, it sounds like her words are tiptoeing, “you are dismissed to visit the nurse’s office.”

  
  


“I’ll go too! I’ll make sure she doesn’t pass out from blood loss.”

  
  


“Ino, since you want to help  _ and _ you distracted your classmates, you can stay to clean up.”

  
  


Sakura stands in the doorway, hands held up with palms facing her shoulders. Ino furrows her brows at their teacher, but she still mouths, “go” to Sakura and lifts a reassuring thumbs up.

  
  


She doesn’t make it to the nurse; she doesn’t go at all. Instead, Sakura walks straight for the bathrooms, getting strange looks in the hallway from a few boys she doesn’t know. By the time she washes off her red gloves, thin, barely visible white lines have already replaced red slashes.

  
  


Sakura counts all of the lines, then pats off the excess water on her hands onto her dress. She can feel the “pain” now: it’s buzzing like a fly.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Can you remember how old you are?”

  
  


The boy hangs his head again, “No.” He has never answered any of Rin’s question about things before his long nap with a “yes”.

  
  


“Don’t worry, it’ll come back to you. Let’s get back to practicing.”

  
  


And so it goes, day by day as Spring slowly emerges from Winter, his stumbling becomes hobbling becomes shuffling, until-- he walks.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sakura is sitting across from someone even Root thinks has died. Sometimes, Ume said on a different occasion, people need to accomplish things on their own. She thinks it applies here too and does not utter a syllable of “Shisui Uchiha” at the dinner table.

  
  


He keeps on hand on his plate as he eats, choosing to forgo the side dish of fish and bowl of miso to simplify the process. His movements are rigid, more controlled than someone with months of atrophied muscles would usually be able to accomplish. When he first moved from intravenous to regular nutrition, his movements were both more loose and more considered. Might have been the mental strain of consciousness or the decision to trust, it’s hard for Sakura to label. She observes him like everyone else, though his mannerisms now will definitely not useful trying to play a normal girl.

  
  


Despite his strategic caution and Sakura’s tendency to avoid him, he seems warms to her. Most of their conversations are hellos, thank yous, or good nights. Sometimes he tells her little jokes that she giggles at. Still, the bulk of what either say is directed towards Ume, since she is the most talkative, or at least, the most willing to talk.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Two of the other civilian kids -- you don’t know ‘em -- dropped out, Ino-pig told me.”

  
  


Rin turns to where Sakura is sitting at the dinner table, still drying off the drinking glass with a towel, “Woah, woah, that isn’t nice to call Ino-chan.”

  
  


“Oh!” Sakura drops her pencil intentionally to show that she is taken aback, “I’m not trying to be mean to her or anything. She said that I should give her a nickname since she calls me ‘forehead’.”

  
  


Considering, Rin’s words come out staggered, “Well, if she says it's okay.”

  
  


“Hah! Kids,” the too-youthful-to-say-that-sort-of-thing Kagami interjects. They started calling the boy that after he suggested the name himself.

  
  


 

> “Kagami? I think I read about an Uchiha from the First Shinobi War with that sort of name,” an absent minded Rin said while helping him stretch.
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> “How fun!” he had replied, tension in the way his teeth rested on each other, lips pulled into an innocent smile.
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> Oh, she realized, his memories are coming back. Soon his Yin chakra will return in greater ammounts from the cognitive strenghtening, as will his Yang chakra from more strenuous excersize. The conversation quickly turned to something else, signs that rain was coming soon, since Rin did not prod further. The future is not the present. He was still in a tight spot as it was, blind and at the mercy of a stranger, so asking him if he was an Uchiha -- even though he so obviously was -- would be cruel of her. Cruel in the same way hitting a child dependent on you would be. 

  
  


  
Sakura tells her more about what's going on at school as Rin draws a bath for her. It’s more than she’s heard from Sakura in months, probably because she’s been too busy to stop and  _ really _ have a conversation. 

  
  


“- And there’s a boy who’s been acting weird,” Sakura’s voice is the same, but she has turned to make eye contact, eyebrows raised.

  
  


“Who?”

  
  


“Sasuke Uchiha, the clan head’s son, I think.” Rin thinks so too, sounds familiar. It must be hard to stand in the shadow of Itachi, who, she has been told by a knitting circle she needs to start meeting with again (it’s been more than a year now), is something of a prodigy. His skill, apparently, matches Kakashi. Impressive claims.

  
  


The eye contact is not broken, “He’s been kinda gloomy since the start of the semester. Started going home earlier and stopped playing as much after school. They say his brother killed  _ the _ Shisui of the Shunshin.”

  
  


“Anyways,” Sakura turns, the message has been transmitted, “Thanks, Ume-nee!”

Rin closes the door behind her. In the hall, she leans against a wall, staring at the ceiling. So that confirms just which mystery ninja she’s taken care of the past year and a half. High profile is an understatement. All of this Uchiha business is setting her on edge.

  
  


“What is going on out there,” she sighs.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“I’m sorry,” Sakura can make out the last words Ume says between sobs upstairs. Resting her pencil on her school work, she sneaks up the stairs with more stealth than the girl she is supposed to be is supposed to have and peers around the corner just in time to see “Kagami” stumble and fall to his knees just outside his doorway. Ume stands in front of him with hands pressed to her face and her back on the wall opposite his room. Each gasp for air that divides her sobs, she sinks lower and lower down.

  
  


Then, they both are crying on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can finally close my coma and enucleation research tabs! woohoo
> 
> pre-genin is fun, but i am so excited for wave ... just a few more chapters i tell myself every week
> 
> also! sorry about more code names, "kagami" is the last one ... hopefully


	6. of the window where you sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo early chapter :-)
> 
> 💖 thank you for all the kudos/bookmarks/views/COMMENTS! 💖

Shinobi Rule #25: never show your tears

  
  


Shisui never expected this to be the first shinobi rule he broke. He's not sure if this even counts as breaking a rule since he's dead to the world outside this house. What does it matter at this point either? He became a shinobi to earn a living for his family. He rose the ranks to bring honor to the clan. He fought valiantly for the village. And all of it is gone, gone, gone.

  
  


Every person dies someday, but the Uchiha Massacre is the death of an entire people.

  
  


( Shisui tore off the bark of the tree and found rot all the way down to its roots. All this left him with was bloodied fingers.)

  
  


Ever since he's been conscious enough to recognize danger, Shisui tried to remain vigilant, cautious. Smell for suspicious fumes. Listen for suspicious movement. Taste only small portions of food at a time for poison. Neither fumes, attempts on his life, nor poison ever come to him here.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They're walking on one tight rope towards each other, Ume and he. 

  
  


“And you? What did they mean to you?” is what he wants to ask her, likely what she wants to ask him, hold onto something that reminds them of what was just ripped away. They can’t ask though: that would mean finally colliding on the tightrope they’ve balanced for so long and both falling off.

  
  


He can’t tell her who he is for his safety as much as Ume and Sakura’s. As likely the only remaining Uchiha and knowing what he knows, the truth is a dangerous bottle to pass around. Sure poison, not even a game of chance. If it doesn’t kill them all immediately, death will come later. 

  
  


Then there’s that something off with the Harunos. Shisui would bet that whatever they’re hiding, it isn’t a danger -- to him at least (he isn’t sure that his “bet” would even count as much anymore. even his most solid plan went awry). Still, it is odd that in the past months he’s been aware of what was going on around him, no one else entered the house. Ume introduced Sakura as her niece. On occasion, he hears conversations outside his window in which neighbors ask when Sakura’s parents will get back from their business trip. 

  
  


Even without the sharingan’s sensor abilities, he is certain that Sakura’s parents have never once been back.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Rin wakes, feeling paralyzed on her bed. Her powder blue duvet is a second gravity, pushing her body into the mattress.

  
  


The massacre hurts Rin with dull pain that spreads through her bones. It's hard to wrap her head around the large loss of life, a whole clan wiped out: from those old enough to have survived three great ninja wars to infants not old enough to sit up own their own and all those in-between. She was not an Uchiha, but those were her people too. They were part of her village, and now they won't ever be again.

  
  


Lethargically, she peels off her covers and sits up at the edge of her bed. She changes her worn t-shirt and drawstring shorts out for a mild, peach colored dress that reaches from just below her adam’s apple to the tops of her ankles. The sleeves are sheer and flare out into a bell shape.

  
  


Soon enough, after she drags herself to the bathroom, after she washes the salty residue of her tears from her face, the pain condenses. It tucks itself neatly in the place she once cradled a chidori. A grapefruit in size and acidity. It's funny that a clan of katon users ignite this feeling of heartburn. Instead of a laugh, it's gastric acid that rises in her throat.

  
  


She needs to do something to help keep it down. Help is the something she should do.

  
  


Heading downstairs, she sees a note on the dinner table.

  
  


Excuse Sakura from school until further notice.

  
  


During her time at the Academy, few students ever had excused absences. Most had an explanation after the fact. Times change, Rin guesses as she remembers that her recollection is years more outdated than it feels, and this will deter classmates -- though, its only Ino who seems likely -- from looking for Sakura.

  
  


A ghost of a sensation rushes into her as she ties her apron around her waist. It's like-

  
  


It’s like an outline of the determination she felt every time she tied her hitai-ate, the kind of outline people draw with chalk around a corpse.

  
  


Twelve cups of washed short grain white rice and thirteen + one-half cups of water go into the pot, simmer until the water is absorbed, and broken up with a bamboo paddle to let cool. Rin coats her hands in water and salt before grabbing portions of rice that feel right. Pat, pat, shift. Pat, pat, shift. Thumb is pushed into the center of the resulting rice triangle and a de-pitted umeboshi follows.

  
  


By the end of it, the two hours, she has three boxes of eight rice balls and an empty jar. Plum season ended the last week of June, but it’s probable that she can still find good plums to pickle and return the jar as a gift to the neighbor who gave it to her last year. Just one more item on her laundry list -- in a good way, she’s happy to do it.

  
  


The clock reads eleven thirty-six, perfect time to deliver lunch to whoever’s investigating or cleaning up the previous night’s tragedy. Despite the fact they might have brought their own or plan on going out to eat afterward, it's still nice to do. (especially since the Uchiha themselves aren’t around to thank them for it). Efficiently, she wraps the boxes up in cloth, slips on her shoes, and leaves the house.

  
  


The July heat is tangible outside; Rin can see the transparent ripples dance in the air and feel it roll up her body. She feels as though she could disappear at any moment now, like a desert mirage.

  
  


She doesn't need to ask for directions, but the streets are alien in this particular order. It's been four years since she's walked to the Uchiha side of town, seven if you’re counting over how many years the storefronts have changed.

  
  


The streets are quiet. A lone cicada is buzzing.

  
  


She starts to hear the sound of people again soon enough. They are all headed from the same direction, where she's walking to. Their words bleed together when Rin sees Anko past someone's head, but she can hear one housewife telling her husband, “How rude!”

  
  


Anko must've been the one to send the crowd away since she’s massaging the bridge of her nose in irritation.

  
  


“C'mon! I told all of you rubberneckers to scram!”

  
  


“Aw, I thought I was your favorite.”

  
  


“Eh?” Anko looks up, “Ume, I haven't seen you in so long! Your hair!” 

  
  


Oh yeah, her hair. It grew out in the months she spent nursing Kagami back to health, and while Rin still cut Sakura’s hair, she kept it long to practice braids on. Much of her time was spent monitoring the boy by  bedside, so most of her previous hobbies were too loud or didn’t fit in the room. Today, it is gathered in a loose braid from the previous day, miraculously left intact after a night of restless sleep.

  
  


“Ah, well, my brother's in town, so Sakura’s off with them and I thought I'd bring all of you lunch. Hope I packed enough.” 

  
  


“Geez what a week to come back, but yeah! Yeah, I'll bring them out, since you -- you get it -- can't come in, crime scene and all. They’ll yell at me again.”

  
  


Rin wasn’t planning on staying around, evident by the way she held the bundle of food out, expectant. But Anko doesn’t notice and walks back through the Uchiha gates. Inside, Rin can just make out a pile of thick scrolls, about the circumference of her thigh. She thinks she remembers scrolls like that at the end of the war used to seal up corpses of kekkei genkai wielders. 

  
  


Anko returns with a group of flak jacket donning shinobi, mostly Jonin and -- to her dismay, but not her surprise -- mostly from her graduating genin class. They each take a rice ball, thank her (or whisper something about losing a bet to Anko), and break off into clusters around the outside of the Uchiha Compound. Only two Jonin stay to talk with Anko, Aoba Yamashiro and Hayate Gekko. 

  
  


“Hey,” Aoba starts to lean towards Rin, still at a respectable distance away, rubbing his sunglasses on his shirt before putting them back on again, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  
  


“Gross!” Anko slaps the back of his head, “Don’t hit on her.”

  
  


Aoba pulls back with an, “Aish!”

  
  


“No, no, she does seem kinda familiar… can’t remember from where though,” Hayate lowers the rice ball from his mouth to speak.

  
  


This is exactly what Rin feared would happen if she met up with Anko’s friends. By the time Rin remembered that Anko participated in the same Chunin exams that Kakashi was promoted in, it was too late to stop hanging out with her. It would be too suspicious and Rin was too attached.

  
  


Why didn’t she consider this outcome before she left the house.

  
  


“Really?” Rin rolls a lock of her hair between her fingers, “ I suppose I’ve got one of those faces.”

  
  


“I feel like its more specific than that.”

  
  


Did the Sun come out from behind  a cloud? No, it must just be Rin, since it’s a cloudless day today. 

  
  


“You could have seen me in a crowd?”

  
  


She’ll have to wash the sweat stains out of her dress when she gets home; something she never has to do, but she can feel the sweat accumulate on her lower back.

  
  


“Could be. I mean, we do live in the same village.”

  
  


Rin absolutely cannot let them think about “wacky”  alternate explanations why they “might recognize her”.

  
  


“My niece, Sakura, goes to the Academy. Maybe you’ve seen her?”

  
  


“Hmm-”

  
  
  


“Speaking of my niece,” Rin frantically hands the box of leftover rice balls to Anko, who accepts because she plans on hoarding them for herself, “I have to run. School stuff. You know, kids.” Rin looks up from wrapping up the two empty boxes in cute bean-patterned handkerchiefs for easy travel. The three Jonin shake their heads. They don’t know. They don’t have kids.

  
  


Without turning back, Rin takes off in a speed walk towards the Academy.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Anko is the first one to pipe up after Ume leaves, “ You idiot, you scared her away with your dumb pick up line!” 

  
  


“Too cliche,” Hayate adds, patting one very downtrodden Aoba’s back.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


The inside of the Academy’s lobby has been refurbished sometime since she left. The two degrees of unfamiliarity with the room grabs her attention until a man standing by the front desk calls out, “Haruno-san?”

  
  


Rin doesn’t think she’s introduced to herself (Ume) to him yet. He’s charming in his scarrèd-ness. 

  
  


As she probes her memories, he walks towards her and clarifies, “Pink hair isn’t too common. Iruka Umino, I teach Sakura-san.”

  
  


“Astute!” she flashes a smile, “I’m her aunt, Ume Haruno. Sakura caught something, so she’ll be out sick. Is it fine just telling you, or should I-” Rin looks towards the front desk.

  
  


“Don’t worry, Haruno-san, I’ll take care of it.” The bell rings and the sound of children clamors closer.

  
  


“I won’t keep you from class, then. Thank you,” she bows slightly, just polite enough. 

  
  


Iruka returns the bow, “Take care.”

  
  


Students flood in from their recess outside, carrying him down the hallway. Rin swims against the current, then, brushing off her skirt, walks to the market for some plums.

  
  


* * *

 

“It's nice to see Ume-san is getting out more these days” and other like sentiments are said to Anko by old people as she walks down the civilian road to Ume's house. They give her bags of produce too, things to give to Ume. Many bags. Very heavy. It's a good thing Anko took a nap on Genma's couch after the Uchiha Clean Up before she came.

  
  


She knocks and a muffled “I'm coming!” comes in reply. The door opens to reveal an aproned Ume.

  
  


“Please, come in! Do you want some barley tea? It's chilled.”

  
  


“Sounds good.” Anko sets the bags of produce by the dinner table.

  
  


The house feels different than it did last time she came. That was to celebrate Sakura's first day at the Academy, Anko guesses. She waives it off as a combination of whatever illness Sakura caught and the increased chakra reserves that come from training.

  
  


“Oh yeah, Ume, I brought the box back.”

  
  


Ume sets two glasses of tea down on the table, ice clinking against the sides, then takes the box from Anko, “Wow, you washed it too! Thanks.”

  
  


She got Genma to wash it while she took a nap, but no one probably cares about that so, “Of course.” The cup is already sweating with condensation as she takes a drink.

  
  


A deep groan comes from somewhere upstairs.

  
  


“Sorry about cutting this short,” Ume says, “ But I don't really want you to get sick…”

  
  


“Don't worry, I gotta be on my way anyways. Tell Sakura to get better!”

  
  


“Thanks, eat an orange when you get home, okay?” Ume tosses two oranges her way, “The vitamins will help your immune system.”

  
  


Good aim for a civilian, Anko thinks on the way home; Ume landed an orange in each of Anko’s coat pockets. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


A July in Suna is hard to distinguish from any other time of year in the Land of Wind. When it gets to a certain level of “hot”, the temperatures just blend together. It is, however, hotter than a July in Konoha, and yet drier, so it is noticeably different.

  
  


The journey to Sunagakure takes three days for the average shinobi. Uguisu and Sai make it there in less than two thanks, in part, to Sai’s ink bird. If it had been her default squad, traveling across the Land of Rivers would have dragged on longer than necessary. Sai also took care of that because, after the three recruits made a few too many mistakes on a mission one night, he was the one tasked with the punishment.

  
  


The main mission assignment is the same for Root squad dispatched, no matter which hidden village they are sent to. Monitor reactions to the Uchiha Massacre, especially those of people in power. For every village with a jinchuriki, squads must also find new information on that front.

  
  


Uguisu is dispatched to one of those villages to gain more experience around jinchuriki. Suna isn’t a random hat-pull either. It’s the closest to Konoha, just in case of a (bijuu) emergency. Sai is paired up with her because of his animals, specifically the kind used for transport, and because everyone else are already paired off with groups they are the most compatible with (operatives should be fine in any combination, but the villages may be in high alert, so Danzo took necessary precautions). 

  
  


The pair arrive at the central office building just before the Kazekage enters a meeting with the Council of Elders. Security isn’t high for this meeting, yet Sai still opts to deploy four ink-mice for reconnaissance. Their chakra signatures are small and will seem innocuous, therefore not trigger any suspicion. He draws a fifth mouse to place on Uguisu so that they can split up. If either one is jeopardized, they have a secure and open channel for communication.

  
  


Opting to henge into a plain Suna villager with mousy hair and features, Sai goes to observe the marketplace. Uguisu keeps her mask on because, for her, to henge for that long is a dangerous waste of chakra. She assigns herself to the Kazekage Clan’s estate. A home to both generations of Suna heads of state and the Ichibi’s vessels? The perfect cocktail for espionage.

  
  


Children in the back courtyard are playing, no, they’re training, with a man. It is likely that there are also domestic servants around the house. On the side, she finds the room with the highest chance of being empty. The room is turret-shaped: usually called a bay window, but alas, it is solid, no glass.

  
  


Like the rest of the village, the entire house is sand and clay -- rammed earth, adobe, or a combination. It’s size is more imposing than the rest of the pustule-shaped buildings, though not as large as the main office. The windows, sealed to the wall to prevent sand from the outside to come in, are not suitable to break in through. 

  
  


A light knock on the wall is enough for Uguisu to get a rough estimate of its thickness. Thin enough for a simple C-rank doton jutsu to get her through. She uses a bastardized sort of Hidden Mole technique to dig through the wall, enter, and close it behind her without a trace.

  
  


Her initial scan of the room confirms there is no one else with her, though the silence suggests no one else is even in this corner of the house.

  
  


Sai’s ink mouse squeaks. 

  
  


Before she has time to process what that could even mean, the sound of sand entering the room clarifies the mouse’s warning.

  
  


“My assassins always use cloth to cover their faces,” says the boy who emerges from the sand. Uguisu doesn’t say anything. The stuffed bear in his arms juxtaposes the image of DANGER! he otherwise projects.

  
  


He steps closer to her. They’re face to face now.

  
  


“You aren’t from Sunagakure, then.”

  
  


Uguisu is still, save for the beat of her heart (early on, she discovered how to consciously regulate the contractions of an involuntary muscle. she's slowed it now, disregarded her body's natural panic). Behind her mask, her eyes dart all over the room, calculating. 

  
  


“It doesn’t matter. I’ll kill you.”

  
  


The calculations read as “error”. She can’t focus on evaluating her surroundings because this boy makes her want to grind her teeth down to stumps. The same grating feeling she gets from the Kyuubi’s container. 

  
  


Under her mask, Uguisu whispers to the mouse to prevent it from telling Sai. She’s more competent than three recruits; she can deal with Subaku no Gaara by herself.

  
  


“Can’t you feel it?” she pulls the cap off of her head, spilling her hair down her shoulders. It’s a one step back, two steps forward kind of plan that she’s come up with. Pink is close to red. People like, she has been told, things that resemble them. “I’m like you.”

  
  


Gaara looks taken aback now, “like me?”

  
  


“I have a Bijuu inside of me too.”

  
  


“Does your village revile you too?”

  
  


She would have lied, said yes because a book she read said sharing experiences helps to develop a bond; however, an interloper interrupts. The classic-looking Suna Anbu jumps in Gaara’s direction. She knows the Anbu will reach Gaara before realizing she’s there at all, but she doesn’t want to risk her presence being known by anyone other than the Ichibi’s jinchuuriki. 

  
  


The Anbu doesn’t make it to Gaara before Uguisu locks them in a carotid restraint (aka the worst way to cradle your baby to sleep). Gaara watches her, and his eyes only grow wider in surprise.

  
  


“You killed for me,” he sounds more like a child than before.

  
  


“Yes.” There’s the lie. The mouse squeaks, and somehow she knows this means the meeting has ended, that the Kazekage is returning to his home. She lets the body drop out of her arms. It lands with a  _ thunk, thunk _ on the floor. “I must go now.”

  
  


“Wait!” he cries out, sand grabbing her wrist when his own arms are too far away to do so. It’s irritating, not in the friction burn- manner, but like she’s allergic. There could be sand mites in there. Either way, the pain the sand hold causes is unintentional.

  
  


The arm at his side clenches his stuffed bear desperately, “I don’t want to be lonely again.”

  
  


Uguisu clenches her teeth, the unpleasant feeling she gets from being around him must be one-sided. Really, she needs to get going and fulfill her mission.

  
  


“I can’t stay with you, but,” she twists her wrists in the sand-cuffs and opens her palms towards the ceiling. Thinking of birch, a small seedling wriggles up and twists into a circle. The trunk thickens halfway to a sapling, then dies. It petrifies immediately, into a stony plagiarism of Ume’s bracelet (Root is known for training obedient operatives, not creative souls). 

  
  


She thinks back to an action movie she saw once, takes a line right out of the script, “Wear this to remember me by. We will meet again.” Uguisu snaps off the bracelet and slides it onto his wrist, then pulls the cap over her hair again. 

  
  


Not waiting for him to change his mind, she slides backward through the wall without looking at his reaction and adds, “Don’t tell anyone about me.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


He knows he can't keep crying forever. Shisui needs to rehabilitate, strengthen his body again. But for what? 

  
  


A light knock comes from his door. “Kagami-kun, I brought you some apples.”

  
  


“Ah, please come in.”

  
  


Ume sits on the foot of his bed like she usually does and gives him a plate. Picking up a slice, he rubs the sliver of apple peel -- yep, cut like bunny ears just like how Itachi used to do prepare it for him and Izumi after training -- and bites half off with a clean snap.

  
  


“I also have,” she pauses like she’s untying her tongue, “An update.”

  
  


Shisui swallows the half of the slice without chewing.

  
  


“My jonin friend, she was here the other day, confirmed that Itachi was the perpetrator.”

  
  


He drops the other half of the slice onto the plate, putting it on the side table so he doesn’t spill it. His mouth feels dry. “I see.”

  
  


“He left one survivor, Sasuke. He’s still in the hospital. Just became public information because Itachi’s far enough away now.”

  
  


“Thank you, Ume-chan. Can I -”, he swallows a sob.

  
  


She gets up, “Take all the time you need.”

  
  


This is the last time he’ll cry over the Massacre. One final time to mourn.

  
  


Why rehabilitate? He knows now: become strong enough to protect and take care of Sasuke, take down Danzo.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sakura Haruno returns to the Academy after eight days. Naruto knows because he's been keeping track, looking for her during breaks. He knows her name because he heard it when he was spyin’ on Iruka, plotting an epic prank.

  
  


How lucky, he thought, to be cared for by someone nice like the lady who gave him a scarf. He doesn't have someone who would come to school just to tell the teachers that he was sick, not that anyone would care.

  
  


Sakura might be nice too, like the scarf lady, but he hasn't had the chance to check because every time he tries to get near her, she runs away. It's not like she even sees him before running like the rest of the kids. Just bad timing, he supposes.

  
  


That Sasuke guy isn’t back yet though. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


A certain man leans over his toilet. He'd been through war as a genin, lost an arm and his ear too, became a private detective. His agency was frequented by clan members looking for their children, most of which were promising kekkei genkai inheritors. 

  
  


Oh, he's found their trails alright, trails that lead off deep under the dirt, down where the worms and centipedes live. 

  
  


But the past two years his life was a wreck, and it had been a gradual fall from grace. 

  
  


Were those shoes always there? Why did everything seem tilted, just a few degrees, to the right? Where did his tonkatsu sauce go? He just bought it yesterday. He didn't leave the lights on when he left his house, so why were they when he came home? He didn't turn off the lights in his office, so why were they when he came home? Why did people act like they already saw him that day? His water tasted more bitter than it used to. Blank letters came in the mail. Were they really blank, or did he just not see the words? 

  
  


Then it was walking home and seeing himself in the distance. Multiple doppelgangers. The moon rising on a sunny afternoon. Every night he dreams of drowning. In the middle of his last appointment with a client for the night, he began to hear a child cry. His client did not.

  
  


Once he saw a trio of porcelain animals in the reflection of his faucet, just for a brief moment.

  
  


When he began to tell people about it, no one believed him. He accumulated too much, too much to be believed. The only other living member of his genin team, now a chunin, laughed him off like everyone else.

  
  


He had a short respite from these frustrations in the immediate aftermath of the Uchiha Massacre-- he suspected that the tragedy grounded him in reality. To his dismay, however, the “occurrences” began again about a week later.

  
  


Now as he absently gazes into the toilet bowl, already filled with the contents of his stomach, he thinks he sees the reflection of one of those porcelain animals. A lone bird.

  
  


His neighbors will find his body hooked onto the toilet by rigor mortis. The curve of his spine along the toilet, his face eaten away by his own vomit. Its an undignified removal; they have to use more force than any of them want to to peel his body off. 

  
  


No one looks for the missing children anymore. They all saw how it drove the man to madness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarification: sakura & sai spend ~2 days to get to suna, 4 days gathering intel, and ~2 days to get back. I would have written dialouge between them, but -- between the both of them -- there is 0 personality. thats like asking me to write a transcript of a conversation between two chat bots, except the bots aren't even programmed for conversation! theyre programmed for assassinations.
> 
> sorry for any grammar mistakes. i really went ham with the spicy punctation this time (it won't get better from here). i took my last SAT so u know im not going to give a shit about double checking if im using semi colons correctly. also i have a fever right now. ;-) there is no bone in my body that wants to proof read right now. or ever. 
> 
> half way through writing i was like "man fuck this angsty shit, i thought this would have turned out funnier by now" so, uh, thats why a few more humorous parts.
> 
> Ume Haruno does not roll off the tongue.
> 
> also, hey Diane! thanks for reminding me about Gaara. I was trying to figure out where Sakura should go/ which jinchuuriki she should meet and well... this is an endnote so you already know what happened. Thank god for all the Narutopedia information on Gaara.
> 
> Also! In the process of writing a second fic that (while still kinda focusing on Sakura) shares the limelight with the Hyuugas.   
> One thing I'm not too sure about is whether or not i should give Sakura Shikotsumyaku (Mebuki is going to be from the Kaguya clan in this AU)  
> I want to write Sakura as maybe a genjutsu specialist who doesnt need no fancy family jutsu but ... cool kekkei genkai... :b:ones...


	7. the night breeze / carries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah. most of this chapter was written in May. lets hope i didn't forget anything i wanted to write. :,-)

**One year since the massacre**

 

 

The Uchiha compound is a scar on the city. It’s an ugly reminder and somewhere that will never house a new family. The latter could be because of deep grief or respect or, most likely, superstition. Rin hopes its the first two.

  


No one ever ignores it. People who walk by always acknowledge in some form or another: a swallow, a wistful glance, a tug on their child’s hand. Many things have changed since she died, but it’s this one that she can never rationalize. She forgets the compound is empty every time she passes by it, which is often as of late.

  


“Kagami” trains by himself, though sometimes when he reaches a milestone, he’ll call her and Sakura over to see. Sakura has school and Ino afterward. She’s been making her own bentos because they like to compete to see who can make the cutest, most intricate design. They all eat breakfast and dinner together, lunch too on weekends. When Sakura comes home and regails to them how great Ino’s was that day, Kagami likes to say he thought Sakura’s looked quite good too. This predicates a sequence wherein Sakura picks up some piece of food, usually an inch in diameter, with her chopsticks and tosses it at his face. The first few times she did this, it landed, but now Kagami catches the food mid-air and eats it, proudly.

  


With most of her day free to do whatever with again, Rin has taken up a wide assortment of hobbies again. It’s glassblowing that takes her by the compound multiple times a week.

  


“Good afternoon, Haruno-san,” the man who owns the workshop looks up from his painting table as she enters, “Have anything in mind you’d like me to teach you?”

  


“Oh I’m not staying long today, just ‘harvesting’ the fruits of my labor.”

  


“In that case, it’s on the shelf to your right. My son wrapped them up for you.”

  


“Thank you,” Rin says, placing the wrapped package into her bag, “Please pass my gratitude onto him.”

  


Excitement feels like it might burn a hole in her shoes on the walk home. She pays no mind to whatever cute cat might need petting or acquaintance needs a greeting like usual, and others seem to notice too. They sense her determination and decide to talk a different day.

  


“I’m home,” Rin says almost out of breath as she removes her shoes and follows the trail of laughter to the coffee table in front of the television. Sakura peels her hands off of Kagami’s face. Its ghost white with powder that even covers his eyebrows. Red traces the bottom of his eyes and a conservative part of his lips. To say she wouldn’t expect to come home to this is an understatement.

  


“Do I look pretty?” he asks.

  


Rin makes a viewfinder with her fingers, squinting and tilting her head, “I think you’re missing something.”

  


“Real-ly?” Sakura’s intonations are steep and _almost_ sarcastic-sounding, “ I really wanted to impress Ino-chan when we start makeup in kunoichi training this week.” She pulls her face into a pout and makes a show of wrapping her knees in her arms.

  


“Oh Sakura, I didn’t mean it like that,” Rin says as she pulls Sakura into a hug, “I was going to say that I had the finishing touch!”

  


Both Kagami and Sakura perk up at that, turning towards Rin as she pulls a plain, brown box from her bag. When Rin opens the box, Sakura gasps, “How pretty! Kagami-kun she got you eyeballs!”

  


“Haha, _what_?”

  


“Eyeballs, the things that go under your eyelids. Usually.”

  


“They’re glass, don’t worry,” RIn reassures him, pressing the box into his hands

  


Rolling one between his fingers, he asks,“ What color are they?”

  


“Brown.”

  


“A good color.”

  


“I figured it was common, so it would help you blend in at least that much more.”

  


“Thank you. I -- _eye_ ,” he laughs at his own joke to break up the teary wobble in his voice, “don’t know how to thank you more.”

  


“You don’t need to,” she chuckles as well, “But, since you asked, stay put as a model for a little longer? Sakura, I’ll get you magazines to look at. They have makeup tips that will help you in kunoichi training more than what you learned from theatre.”

  


Upstairs, Rin closes the door behind her, gently pressing it shut as she cautiously scans her room. Everything is right where she left it this morning; no one came in. She kneels in front of her wardrobe, opening its two doors all the way. Most of her clothes are hung in here, but that isn’t what she came here for. _Tiger, horse, rabbit, rat, dog_. She focuses a small amount of chakra into her right fingertips to form a chakra scalpel. Then, Rin slides her hand under the wardrobe and angles it upwards, finding a seam in the perpendicular wood panels. Without making an incision on those wood panels, she slides her hand deeper, finding where the floor panel of the wardrobe slides into a notch and pushes it back, into a deeper notch on the back. With her left hand, Rin takes out the floor panel, revealing a compartment with a single scroll inside.

  


Back before the whole “Kagami” business, around the time Sakura started attending the Academy, Rin had built this wardrobe herself. At first, there was no hidden purpose for it, just something to do and something to hold clothes. Near the end, however, she decided if Sakura was going to bring more ninjas-in-training over, Rin might as well take an extra step to keeping her belongings safe. The scroll just happened to be lying around at the time as well, the result of wondering if she still remembered what Kushina taught her all those years before. ( After training, team seven all went out to eat. Kushina tagged along. After a few drinks, a few questions about Uzushio, and a little prodding at her ego, Kushina was riled up to prove that, yes, she did remember fuinjutsu.)

  


Inside the scroll already were the lock of hair she cut at Orochimaru’s lab and Kagami’s hitai-ate (she went back to the forest to get it from where it was buried under the matsutake). From her brown paper bag, she pulls out another box from the workshop: inside are glass eyes that resemble those of an Uchiha. Deep, deep black. One day, she hopes, Kagami will trade the brown ones in for these. Rin seals the box into the scroll, puts the scroll back into the compartment, and slides the floor panel back in between the notches.

  


Before she’s been gone for too long, Rin rushes downstairs with a damp towel and magazines rolled up under her arm.

  
  


**Two years since the massacre**

  


Sasuke Uchiha is no longer a survivor as much as he is the last of an extinct line. While he was popular before as the son of an influential clan head before, the village girls have now formed a fan club around him. He seems so exotic to all those who think that they’ll be the one to “fix” his sorrows. They all think themselves some sort of therapist-mother-wife amalgamation, here to pacify and soothe and say pretty things to him. [They’ve all been told to do so all their life, so why not do it for someone special.]

  


The fan club is perfect cover for Sakura’s mission. Just follow the horde of girls to find Sasuke. She doesn’t have to put effort into concealing herself from the Anbu because she can just blend into the crowd and copy whatever everyone else does. Ino, of course, joins too.

  


She learns the most about blending in when she's out with the fan club and makes time to spend with Ino between the academy and the theater. Sometimes they study, sometimes they watch movies, sometimes they just run off into the woods to pick flowers.

  


Turning to Ino from the comic book they're reading, Sakura gapes, “the samurai elopes with his childhood friend?”

  


It's a weekly tradition for them to go to the bookstore and read the latest chapters; Sakura holds the left side of the book, Ino holds the right.

  


“Noooo! I wanted her to marry the prince. Why wouldn't she choose the prince?”

  


Someone chuckles on the other side of the bookshelf.

  


Both girls look around to see some one-eyed man staring at an orange  book. _“What would Ino do if he was laughing at us?”_ Sakura wonders.

  


Ino places a cupped hand to Sakura's ear and whispers, “ Ugh, that guy comes over to talk to my dad sometimes. My dad says not to read those kinds of books. Let's go.”

  


\---

  


She trains with Kagami from time to time, all hand to hand combat and katas. It's good practice for him to regain his physical capabilities and for her to limit her abilities during class. She experiments with what she sees from other children, both root trainees, and her classmates alike, painting a pathetic picture: a stumbling, hesitant girl out of breath and lacking strategy.

  


He says how he always wanted to teach a younger sibling, oftentimes sharing his philosophies with her.

  


“A ninja should self-sacrifice, even from the shadows, to protect his village above all else.”

  


Sakura hums.

  


**Three years since the massacre**

  


Sometimes her body seems to change overnight. When she wakes, something very subtle does not look or feel the same. The discrepancy makes her want to slide a knife between dermis and hypodermis, pick through the fat that clings to her muscle, and find for herself what it is. It's unsettling, the rapid rate at which she becomes unfamiliar with herself.

  


The academy is slowly changing too. Class sizes are getting smaller -- all of the kids her age fit into two classrooms, and they are finally starting to spar.

  


Today’s the day. Both classes are brought out to the courtyard surrounded by wire fencing and two boys, both from the other class, are picked out by Iruka to spar first.

  


“Um, sir,” Choji says.

  


“What is it?” replies Iruka, who is holding a clipboard with a roster.

  


“I don’t really want to hurt my friends.”

  


“Oh, it’s not really like that. These are traditional shinobi pair exercises. The Hokage of old used these to train and become very strong.”

  


Shikamaru leaves his sparring circle calmly, facing away from both Iruka and Choji, he says, “Um, sir? I don’t mind losing by going out of bounds, so please move on to the next guy.”

  


“H-hey!-” a now flustered Iruka reacts.

  


“Whether you’re training or fighting, once the winner has been decided, the battle’s over, so it's less of a pain to just decide right away.”

  


Iruka sighs, conceding, but Ino gets fired up.

  


“Shikamaru, you idiot! You’re the biggest pain here! Plus Choji’s got no guts!”

  


“Ino-bu-” Ah. They’re at school. “Ino-chan, do you know them?” (Those three are all the next generation of ino-shika-cho, but Ino makes sure to avoid the two boys whenever she’s with Sakura)

  


“Ah, sorta. Through my parents.” (Ino knows most clan and high ranked shinobi through her parents.)

  


“That’s enough. Shikamaru, Choji, make the Seal of Reconciliation.”

  


“Oops, I forgot,” Shikamaru says. (Clan children are often ahead of the class.) In the circle facing Choji again, he extends two fingers and gives a nod of encouragement to his friend. Choji nods back, locking his own two fingers around Shikamaru’s.

  


“I’m sorry, Shikamaru”

  


“No big deal. I know you don’t like this kind of thing. Besides, I can be a pain, too.”

  


“Good, that’s a perfect seal of reconciliation,” Iruka says before looking at the roster, “Next… Uzumaki Naruto.”

  


“Hell yeah!” Naruto shouts. The children around him give him displeased looks and whisper amongst themselves.

  


“It’s him!” “My parents said never to talk to him.” “I just hope I don’t have to train with him.”

  


“Uchiha Sasuke. Come here you two.”

  


Sakura and Ino and everyone else in the class cheer him on. (It’s both of Sakura’s assignments in one go. The extremely popular and extremely unpopular kids. Even though the precious, sole-Uchiha will be fighting the dangerous, wild card jinchuuriki, Sakura can’t find any Anbu in hiding. She hasn’t seen them in the past week during Sasuke-hunting with the fan club. They must not be assigned to guard him anymore because, if there’s ever been a more obvious time to watch his safety, it’s now.)

  


Naruto glares at Sasuke, then shouts out a, “All right! No way am I gonna lose!”

  


“We shall now commence the match between Uzumaki Naruto and Uchiha Sasuke.”

  


“Bring it on, you moron!” says Naruto, the lowest student in their year,  to Sasuke, one of the top five students.

  


“Hey, Naruto! Make the Seal of Confrontation with your dominant hand like you’re supposed to! It’s called being polite.”

  


“Who cares about that stuff? Just hurry and let me beat him up! I’m gonna become popular!”

  


“How stupid,” the crowd collectively swoons to Sasuke’s sweet tones, “If that’s what you want, I’ll take you down in a-”

  


“Stop it you two, honestly… This shinobi pair exercise is a traditional training practice that has been passed down through generations. It has super formal rules of etiquette, but at the Academy we start at the basics. They’re important too. First, you have to make sure you face your opponent and point one hand at him. It signifies the first half of making technique seals with both hands and shows your willingness to fight. This is the Seal of Confrontation. After the exercise is finished, you both put the Seal of Confrontation in front of you and overlap them into the Seal of Reconciliation to show your willingness to be friends. This is the full etiquette of Shinobi pair training-”

  


Iruka’s head snaps over to Naruto, who is picking at his ear, “Hey! Are you listening? This is the second time I’ve had to tell you!”

  


“Yeah, yeah.”

  


“One ‘yeah’ is enough, you little twerp!”

  


“I got it already!”

  


Begrudgingly, both Naruto and Sasuke make the Sign of Confrontation, which is greeted by another wave of cheers for Sasuke.

  


“Begin!”

  


In one instant, Sasuke already has Naruto on his back, a palm on his abdomen and a fist pointed at his face. It catches everyone off guard, even Iruka, but as soon as the dust settles, the cheers resume. (She can’t see it that well behind Sasuke’s bangs, but judging by Naruto’s quiet, shocked face, something about Sasuke’s expression is... off.)

  


As Sasuke stands back up, releasing Naruto, Iruka shouts “Sasuke wins!” Probably out of etiquette because no one needed to be told that.

  


“Now, offer each other the Seal of Reconciliation. Next!”

  


Sasuke leaves without offering the seal, prompting Naruto to call out to him, “Wait! What, you’re too good to even look at me? You little scumbag! No, even better, you piece of crap! Piece of crap! You big fat loser! You idiot! You idiot!”

  


Without saying a word, Sasuke turns his head to Naruto with an annoyed expression.

  


“Say something you big fat loser-”

  


Iruka hits Naruto on the head just as he finishes, “I told you shinobi pair exercises are a sacred tradition! Do the Seal of Reconciliation already! Sasuke, that means you, too! Honestly…”

  


Both boys walk towards each other, glares growing more agitated with each step. They begin to reach out to make the sign, but in unison, both grab each others’ collars instead.

  


“You wanna have a go, you drop out?” Sasuke breaks his silence.

  


Iruka rushes in to separate them,” Hey, give it a rest, you two!”

  


“You’re disgusting, Naruto!” Ino cries out.

  


Someone behind Sakura shouts, “What’s wrong with you?”

  


Sakura decides to stay silent, though the look on her face looks offended for Sasuke. (It’s better in the long term not to heckle her assignment.)

  


\-----

  


“I’m home!” Sakura shouts into the house as she removes her shoes.

  


Kagami calls back, “In the back, kiddo! Ume’s out.”

  


He’s sitting on the engawa with his feet dangling over the edge munching on a slice of nashi pear. Plopping down next to him, legs crossed, Sakura picks up a slice from the plate.

  


“Howsh shcool?” he asks, chewing.

  


Sakura swallows what she bit off before replying, “Hmmm. Well, today we started sparring. I went against some girl from a different class.”

  


“Did you use the moves I showed you?”

  


“Not rea-ally. I didn’t want to be flashy or anything because,” she pauses to giggle and lower her head like she’s embarrassed (even if he’s blind, it adds to the effect), “because, um, Sasuke-kun was there.”

  


“Oh?” he shifts to a more smug, investigative tone of voice, “Wouldn’t you want to show off for him? It’d get his attention.”

  


“No! Not at all! Boys don’t like rough girls like that! Besides… He seemed like he was in a bad mood.”

  


“Why’s that?”

  


“ _His_ sparring partner was that, uh, Naruto Uzumaki guy! Everyone says that kid is dangerous. So _I_ was super concerned for Sasuke-kun’s safety. And-and-and that Naruto guy grabbed his shirt and started calling him bad names. It was sooooo scary. I thought someone would have stepped in. Iruka-sensei tried, but he’s too nice, you know?” Sakura, with her head slightly tilted downwards still, looks up at Kagami with big, innocent eyes. (The house is not secure with this shinobi, now nearly at full recovery, in it. Her cover could be blown if he even saw the wrong thing at the wrong time.)

  


“Hmm,” He looks like he’s thinking hard, before snapping back to attention,” sounds frightening.”

  


“Yeah.”

  


“You know, if you like that boy a lot, you should make him a bento,” Kagami says with a mischievous expression,” I heard Uchihas really like rice balls with bonito flakes and tomatoes.”

  


“That’s great!” she goes in for a smidge-too-tight hug,” You’re the best!”

  


\-----

  


Two days after the sparring incident, a girl from a different class hands him a bento. He glares without saying a word, so she leaves the classroom after placing it on the desk in front of him. When he goes to throw it out, he looks inside: three bonito flake-stuffed rice balls and sliced tomatoes. Immediately, he caps the bento box, making sure no one is watching him, and tucks it inside the pocket of his shorts.

  


It's not until he gets home -- the Uchiha Compound, not the apartment he was given for being an orphan -- that he eats the bento. It’s a bit warm and kind of tousled up, but it still looks like the ones his mom used to make.

  


Sitting in the shell of what his clan used to be doesn’t make him feel lonely or empty. Rather, it reminds him of what he’s training for, what he wants to avenge.

  


After polishing off the last of the bento, Sasuke starts to think that maybe he’s been sitting here too long. He’s seeing ghosts. Shisui is standing before him, older than when he died and in unfamiliar clothing. Still, Sasuke knows that the ghost is Shisui of the Shunshin, the Mangekyo Sharingan Shisui, the Shisui whose death people blamed on Itachi, the Shisui who was his other older brother.

  


“Sasuke,” the ghost calls out.

  


Sasuke makes a grunting -- almost choking -- sound, trying to swallow tears while exhaling. His face contorts. It pulls in all directions as he tries to understand how this is happening or why someone would do something so cruel.

  


Shisui wilts at the sound, “it’s me-”

  


“Kai!” Sasuke screams so hard it rasps his voice.

  


“Please, I-” Shisui moves forward to the mid point between them. If someone heard Sasuke…

  


“Kai. Kai,” His voice grows quieter, more trembling, as he repeats it, “Kai. Kai. Kai.” The word loses its meaning the more he says it; “kai” abstracts completely as sobs begin to overtake him.

  


Shisui takes just a few short strides towards his cousin, but it feels like crossing the continent.

  


He throws his arms around Sasuke and, in a soft voice, he says, “It’s me. I promise.”

  


It takes Sasuke a long time (feels like anywhere from a few heartbeats to six hours) before he finally relaxes, buries his head in Shisui’s shoulder, and clutches his back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the episode with that whole Seal of Reconciliation was Shippuden 277  
> I was/am unsure if storage scrolls are made generically or per-item... so lets just say they 're like mary poppin's bag (to a certain extent, i suppose)  
> Danzo convinced the Hokage to dismiss Sasuke’s Anbu because Itachi is out of range now/ in real deep with the akatsuki


	8. and i was so young when i behaved twenty five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rereads my entire fic to remember what the FUCK im writing lol*

She finds a slip of paper inside the teacup Kagami used to use after frantically searching the house for him. Out of breath and still fearful of his fate, Rin reads his chicken-scratch handwriting. Despite her shaking hands and his nearly illegible words, she can still make out what it says:

  
  


“There is someone I need to look after, too. I hope I can take care of him as well as you have taken care of Sakura or even me. Thank you.”

  
  


“Oh thank goodness,” she sighs out loud. Years of stress pours out of her. No longer would she worry about what would happen to him if Root found out about him, or if he caught sight of Sakura when she returned home from a Root dispatch. How she will tell Sakura when she comes home from the academy is something to think about later. 

  
  


For now, she settles on cleaning the house. No trace of him would be left behind. Even a stray hair would ruin their years of stealth and his quiet disappearance, that is, if he did manage to go where he needed to go without being caught. Rin hopes he did, for him and the person he needs to take care of.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Have you thought about whether or not you’d like to continue with theater classes once you graduate?” Ume says to her on their walk back home from said class. They’re holding each other’s hand, warmth in the midst of November chill, and swinging them back and forth, almost in sync with their steps.

  
  


“Mmm,” Sakura pretends to consider, “Well, that’s even  _ if _ I graduate, right?” There are so many people around who could overhear. It is better to be on the safe, unconfident side, even though there is no way she  _ won’t _ graduate.

  
  


Unlocking the door with her free hand -- the left one -- Ume stiffens before she turns the knob. She hunkers down and her muscles tense, ready, then pulls Sakura behind her, away from the door. Sakura knows Ume knows something is off, but continues innocuously swinging their hands.

  
  


Slowly, Ume turns the knob.

  
  


Inside, there is --

  
  


Nothing. 

  
  


It looks empty. Or, at least, there’s nothing out of the ordinary to see. The furniture is still there, where its supposed to be.

  
  


“Surprise!” a chorus of voices shout, one even comes from behind Ume (its Sakura).

  
  


Ume lets go of Sakura’s hand and swifter than she can make out at first, jabs the first person in front of her with her finger tips. He falls, looking paralyzed on the floor, and Ume catches her breath.

  
  


“Bwuah?” is the only not-really-a-word she can form. 

  
  


“Bwuah!” Anko grabs her by both shoulders, “That’s so cool! I didn’t know you knew how to do… that.”

  
  


“Wha-what’s happening?”

  
  


“Surprise birthday party,” Sakura says in an innocently chipper tone, sort of too-sweet in the way that -- if anyone else said it like that -- it could be taken to be mockery, “I let them in.”

  
  


“When?”   
  
  


“I snuck out of class. I snuck back in after.”

  
  


Anko pulls the two inside and closes the door, “and I organized it! It’s mostly ninja because civilians tend to stay away from me.”

  
  


Ume purses her lips before saying, “As long as its people I know already!” with a quavering voice.

  
  


“How’d you do that anyways, Ume? I don’t think I’ve heard of a self defense class with stuff like that for civvies.”

  
  


“Oh, uh, I wanted to become,” Ume pauses, thinking, “an acupuncturist in the capital, but the master I wanted to apprentice for rejected me, so I agreed to take care of Sakura for my brother.”

  
  


“Argh! I’m sorry for bringing that up at your party!

  
  


“Hey I hate to be that guy, but,” Genma -- someone she’s only seen from afar a handful of times, but seems well acquainted with Ume  -- gestures to the person on the ground.

  
  


“Ah, hah,” Ume chuckles awkwardly, then jabs him at two different spots. Her aim looks intentional, so Sakura guesses they are pressure points. “Hey, how’d you know today was my birthday?”

  
  


“We didn’t! One time when I invited you to dinner at Yakiniku-Q,  you said you were born in November, so I decided to go for the middlest day in November. Looks like I got it right.”

  
  


Cake is lit with candles, candles are blown out, cake is cut and distributed. 

  
  


From her spot sitting on the stairs, watching the slowly dwindling party below, Sakura overhears two chuunin (she can tell because of their flak jackets).

  
  


“Yeah I feel bad for that guy, you know? I was going to try and take him out for drinks or something, but Anko was really excited about throwing this surprise party.”

  
  


It looks like Ume heard too; she’s stopped dead in her tracks, no longer heading to the cake.

  
  
  


“This morning I was assigning some Academy students some cemetery maintenance, Kakashi was already at her gravestone. Stayed there even after the kids and I left.”

  
  


They say something that Sakura can’t hear, but it causes Ume to walk away completely.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Fourteen months pass. They feel like more of the same, more changes. Sakura sprouted in height seemingly overnight (she’d tried to make it so her body did it gradually, for years she did it this way. Yet, one night a Root mission depleted her chakra near-completely and she was just  _ too tired _ to restrict and restrict and restrict herself any longer. In the morning, she was half an inch taller and could no longer take control again). The pain from the growth spurt didn’t register on her scale, shocking the neighborhood old women when she didn’t complain about sore legs. Talking with Ino was weird now; instead of having to look up to the other girl, when she looked straight ahead, Sakura saw Ino’s eyebrows. 

  
  


She didn’t notice anything else too dramatic change due to her higher scope of vision. Sakura did, however, see some different faces at school, as there was only one classroom now, at least, for her year.

  
  


From a big, promising branch of the Konoha tree, Sakura’s graduating class at the Academy has been whittled down to these thirty something students. There are children Sakura has been in every class since the first year with, namely Ino, some that she has been in with some classes with, and others she has never been in the same class with. The last category is strictly boys because they never had to stay after to attend kunoichi training. None of them have ever wanted to, so there was really no telling if they actually could attend kunoichi training. 

  
  


They all sit in a lecture hall facing Mizuki-sensei supposedly following the lesson, a final refresher on the mission system, along in their textbooks. In nature, there is a common pattern of distribution called the bell curve. Applying this curve to the class, Sakura estimates that the top sixteen percent of students in the class are reading along diligently: highlighting and writing in the margins or maybe just paying attention. The middling sixty-eight percent are reading casually, occasionally zoning out here or there. The slacking last sixteen percent are not reading. Looking around, her guess is on target. Some examples from the most stand out students: 

  
  


\- Ino, ranking first in the class, scribbles away in her notebook

-Sasuke, number two, scans every line of the page thoroughly 

-Shikamaru, scraping by with a barely passing grade, is resting his chin on the crook of his elbow

-Naruto, well, he’s missing today

  
  


The top ranker for any written tests, Sakura counts herself as an outlier. Instead of reading the textbook -- something she’s already finished cover to cover -- or actively listening to the instructor, she’s catching up on this month’s  _ Blossom _ magazine issue. Of course it doesn’t look like that from anyone else’s point of view; the magazine is wedged into the open pages of the textbook. No one’s caught her before, and no one will catch her now.

  
  


How to Tell If a Boy Likes You

 

One title stares at her from the glossy paper. It isn't important to her if she gets the boy, or any boys, to like her right now (if she genuinely wanted Sasuke's attention, she would have not joined the fan club. Love interests had to stand out among the crowd. Love at first sight was the target, the ideal scenario, which she missed). It is as equally unimportant for her to know if they do. Sakura reads the article nonetheless. It's the cues she's interested in, because if she knows what to look for, she can read people better.

  
  


Don't match any of these? Take this quiz to see if you're doing the right things to get his attention!

  
  


Though the instructor finishes the chapter and dismisses the class for break, Sakura keeps reading, only contributing further to her bookworm image.

 

1.When you see him, do you::

a.look away

b.lock eyes and give him a smile

c.make a gross face

d.shout something out to him

  
  


Sakura can see, in her peripheral vision, Ino organizing her notes and then laying her head in her arms on the desk.

  
  


"Hey, forehead," Ino whispers after staring for a long while, "You can close the textbook. Take a break!"

  
  


Sakura looks over with a pouty face to see Ino's expression changing from something she didn't get a clear enough view of, to her usual challenging smirk.

  
  


"How else am I going to impress Sasuke-kun if not my paper knowledge, Inooo? You know how I am in spars."

  
  


"Oh stop it with those puppy dog eyes. You have nothing to worry about because no matter what, he'll fall for me. I thought you knew by now he likes girls with long hair."

  
  


"Really, pig? I said I'm bad at spars, but 'in battles of the heart, I won't lose'," Sakura quotes an old film they watched together last week and shuts her book with one hand. The movie was supposedly a classic (they found out for themselves that it was also, in fact, very cheesy. Was it cheesy at the time too, or did other movies copy off of it?).

  
  


Neither of them are looking at him, or really truly thinking about him. They're dancing a practiced dance, a waltz around the elephant in the room. Quick quick slow quick quick slow. ¾ tempo heart beat.

  
  


Before Ino has the chance to retort -- she was too busy cringing at the memory of the old film -- Iruka walks into class, hailing the end of break.

  
  


Answer 1: lock eyes and smile, dummy!

  
  


Dragged in with Iruka is a writhing mass, bound by ropes -- the truant Naruto. Immediately, Sakura is hit by a wave of nausea and headache (she doesn’t let it show). Ino gives her one last look, not one Sakura knows how to decipher, before turning to frown at their late classmate.

  
  


“Now, listen, Naruto. You failed the last graduation test and the one before that. This is no time to be goofing off you fool!” Naruto only grunts and looks away.

  
  


It strikes a nerve in Iruka, who announces, “We will have a re-test on the Henge! Even for those who already passed it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rin waits for Sakura outside of the Academy with everyone else’s family. Waiting here could be dangerous; who knows if the students in Sakura’s class have family who might recognize her? And yet, what is more suspicious, is not showing up to congratulate Sakura. Her brittle, acid-stripped pink-ish hair and contacts have been working for years as a disguise, both of which will only increase in persuasion once Sakura comes out. Besides, Rin hasn’t been caught yet! Haha.

  
  


The only people she knows here are Ino’s parents, Inoichi and Ino’s mother (Rin has never heard her name and, after years of knowing them, is now too afraid to ask).

  
  


“Pass or fail, well we both know it’s going to be pass, we’d like to invite you and Sakura out for dinner,” says Ino’s mother, holding Rin’s hand in between her own.

  
  


“We’d love to join you!” Rin smiles, genuinely, nervously, and hoping very much that her roots don’t need a touch up, “ Oh, there are the girls now. -- Sakura!” She politely tears her hand free to bear hug the girl.

  
  


“Ume-nee! Look, look,” Sakura holds up her hitai-ate. Even though Sakura’s been doing god-knows-what Root activity for years, the sight of the hitai-ate makes Rin feel excited and scared for her nonetheless. It’s a dangerous world and there is really no going back, back into safety.

  
  


“I’m so proud!”

  
  


Orange in her peripheral vision catches her attention. Slightly lifting her head and looking over, Rin realizes its Minato and Kushina’s son on the swing again. No hitai-ate. Parents nearby have also noticed him.

  
  


“That’s the only kid who didn’t pass.”

  
  


“Good grief, could you imagine how dangerous that would be?”

  
  


Before Rin can act, or even think about doing something, she is whisked off by the Yamanaka’s.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Nothing grows down here. Not even mold can cling to the concrete despite its darkness and dampness. Maybe its the lack of warmth that does it in. Her own body heat drains into the ground, coldness clawing at her knee through her pants.

  
  


“Last night. Do you know what happened with Naruto Uzumaki?”

  
  


“I did not observe him after the Academy graduation, I was- “

  
  


“Such excuses. You should have been,” Danzo snaps. Under his breath, he mutters, “Disappointing,” and continues aloud, “If you were dedicated to following orders, you would have known that he stole the Scroll of the Forbidden Seal from the Hokage’s office.”

  
  


“I am deeply ashamed of my incompetencies, sir,” she says, dropping from her kneel and prostrating herself.

  
  


“I am not finished. He was told he was the Kyuubi container as well. He knows now.”

  
  


In the same way one would wind their fist back before a punch, Danzo pauses for effect. Not even calculating anything. The math has been done before the conversation.

  
  


“Quit anything outside of monitoring your two targets. Your cover has been set. There will be no forgiveness for failing your mission, especially if it is to uphold this persona.”

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Deep breath now. Sakura takes air in, filling her lungs to capacity, and lets it out, evenly, as she belts out, “Sasuke-kun! Can I sit next to you?” Then, without hesitating or even waiting for an answer, she climbs over Naruto like he is air. She sits down on the wooden lecture hall bench a good yard away from where she would be considered “sitting next to Sasuke” and scoots all the way over with vigor.

  
  


Pressing her lips into a content smile, Sakura takes the time before Iruka comes to plan out her reaction. Excitement is the no-brainer target here. The anticipation is stress, so sweaty palms, trembling, and fidgeting are all on the table. About a year ago, she decided clenching and unclenching her fists would be her signature nervous tick. As she’s thinking and slowly implementing the reactions, there's a commotion in the classroom. Naruto, it seems, got too in-Sasuke’s-face.

  
  


Before she decides how to deal with the boys, Iruka steps into the classroom, clearing his throat. Most of the children have gone from gawking at Naruto and Sasuke to sitting in their seats, like snap buttons locking into place.

  
  


“Starting today, all of you are real shinobi. However, you are still genin. The tough part is still to come! From now on, you’ll be in three man squads and carry out missions under Jonin instructors. The groups were determined to balance strengths.”

  
  


Teams one through six fills up with more of the average students --  lower ranking members in a clan, members of a lower status clan, or clanless.

  
  


“Team Seven: Naruto Uzumaki, Haruno Sakura, and Uchiha Sasuke.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Okay, okay, okay. While Naruto reacted differently during class, he is like  _ super _ glad he got the teammates he did. Sasuke is a huge bastard and all that, but at least he and Sakura are the only two kids who didn’t outright shun him. Sakura never seems to actually see Naruto --  and Sasuke, well, he is like  _ that _ to everyone! Still, who he teams with isn’t too big a deal or anything because soon enough, everyone will see Naruto as someone respectable.

  
  


Firstly, Naruto wants to show them his selling point: pranks. 

  
  


“Hehehe, that’s what you get for being late!” he says, placing the chalkboard eraser in between the door and the doorframe, ready to strike.

  
  


“Pff, as if a jounin would fall for something stupid like that,” Sasuke says as their jounin instructor enters the room, falling for the trap.

  
  


POOF. A dust cloud expands from the point of contact atop Kakashi’s head and the eraser clatters to the floor.

Naruto exclaims, “Wahaha! You fell for it, you fell for it!” 

  
  


“Ah, oh no,” Sakura breaks her silence ( she decides to apologize for something she couldn’t have fixed like Ume sometimes does, maybe even break out fake tears), “I’m sorry I didn’t stop him, Sensei.”

  
  


 “Hmm… How can I say this? My first impression is… I don’t like you guys.”

  
  


In the short silence that follows, Sakura covers her face with both hands and tosses her head back in an effort to look embarrassed and annoyed.

  
  


Kakashi doesn’t comment, hopefully believing her act, and continues, “Well, let’s start with introductions. Likes, dislikes, dreams for the future, whatever.” As he lists it out, his eyes are looking up to the left -- remembering something, the introduction format, perhaps. Something his jonin instructor used?

  
  


“Hey, hey, introduce yourself first!” Naruto demands.

  
  


“Hmmm. My name is Hatake Kakashi. I don’t wanna tell you what I like or dislike. Mmm, dreams for the future? … I have plenty of hobbies.”

  
  


So, all he told them was his name.

  
  


“You on the right,” Kakashi says, “It's your turn.”

  
  


“Yosh! I’m Uzumaki Naruto. What I like is cup ramen. What I like even more is when Iruka-Sensei pays for my ramen. What I dislike is the three ramen I have to wait for my ramen to cook. And my dream…” Naruto grabs his hitai-ate, “is to surpass the Hokage and have the people of this village acknowledge me! ...  Hobbies…. Pranks, I guess. ”

  
  


Knowing he is a jinchuuriki doesn’t seem to have destabilized him.

  
  


“Next.”

  
  


“My name is Uchiha Sasuke. There are lots of things I dislike and I don’t really like anything. While I can;t call it a dream, per se, but I have an ambition. The ressurection of my clan and to kill a certain man.”

  
  


For a second, Naruto’s eyes grow wide and his mouth hangs open, and Sakura quickly copies him. Kakashi doesn’t flinch at his new pupil’s “dream”, the cloth of his mask hasn’t shifted a millimeter. He’d expected something like this. 

  
  


Without taking his eyes off the boys, Kakashi says, “Lastly, the girl.”

  
  


“My name is Haruno Sakura. The thing -- person I like is,” she pauses to giggle and glance at Sasuke, who turns his head, “ My, uh, dream for the future is…” From the corner of her eye, she catches Naruto staring at her. Naruto. She can feel  the irritation bubbling up within her! Memories of last night’s meeting with Danzo resurface; she has to break off the other aspects of her little life because of -- 

  
  


“WHAT I DISLIKE IS NARUTO!” she swallows -- if Kakashi thought he noticed something out of the ordinary, he would have “taken care of” her by now --  clearing her throat, and smiles again, “My hobby is reading magazines.” Saying “acting” or “performing” would have stood out too much. 

  
  


“Okay,” he claps his hands together, “ Tomorrow we’ll start our shinobi duties.”

  
  


“Yeah! What kinds of duties? Duties, duties!” says the boy who you would expect would say this. 

  
  


“First we are going to do something with just the four of us.”

  
  


“What is it? What is it?”

  
  


“Survival training.”

  
  


“Haven’t we had enough training at the Academy?” Sakura says, staring at her nails like she’s worried she’ll ruin them, even though they aren’t actually manicured right now.

  
  


“This isn’t your normal training. This time, I’m your opponent. Details are on the paper.”

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Ino.” From where she stands across the forest clearing, Ino can’t make out why Sakura called her out here after team assignments. The girl looks blank. Then, Sakura’s features come together as cold, uncaring, ambitious, and haughty -- like she’s drawn Sasuke’s face over her own, almost. 

  
  


“W-what the hell did you call me out here for? Is this some sort of prep for a play you’re doing? I don’t have the time today. I have to go meet up for stupid clan stuff.” 

  
  


“I’m returning this ribbon.”

  
  


“I gave it to you. It wasn’t a loan. Hey, shouldn’t you use your [forehead protector] to protect your forehead? It’s an easy target,” she tries to lighten the mood.

  
  


Sakura stays on track.  “I’m not going to follow you around anymore,” She taps the metal of the hitai-ate where the knot of her red ribbon used to be, “ I’m going to stand on my own two feet and be your equal. [When I put this on my forehead,  I’m not going to lose to you as a kunoichi].”

  
  


“Then me too.” Ino takes the ribbon from Sakura, mirroring her challenging smirk.

  
  


Even though Sakura leaves in the direction Ino is supposed to go, she goes the opposite way, deeper into the woods,  anyways. Walking side-by-side now would just hurt.

  
  


Ino stares at the red cloth draped across her palm. It looks like she shook hands with a kunai: blood, blood, blood.

  
  


“I always thought we were equals, you idiot.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


"We'll miss you!" were the general sentiments of her theater classmates. When one burst into tears, Sakura followed, and soon the huddled mass of girls were wailing together. When the sobs slowed, their teacher pulled Sakura aside, a private farewell.

  
  


"I wish I could have taught you for longer -- rather, I wish I could have seen you perform at your peak," she said.

  
  


Sakura wasn't perfect? She had held her character's poses -- mie -- correctly every time. Stitches and seams showing through in her acting.  Flaws! Flaws! Flaws! Heavens garments-- she digs her nails into her palms. It draws blood -- she doesn’t flinch -- but doesn’t drip and seals up just a few moments after.

  
  


"My peak?"

  
  


"When you finally bring in the emotion from  _ your _ life. Like method acting."

  
  


"Oh."

  
  


"I-I know it's your last day, and I don't want to make you upset over this - this thing that won't even hold a candle to all that future shinobi stuff of yours, but you've been here for long enough that I want to believe you at least were passionate about this. Maybe come back to it one day."

  
  


"What do my performances seem like now?"

  
  


Her teacher takes in a breath, like she's hopeful Sakura is interested in furthering her theater career one day, "Your characters all seem like other people's interpretations. Some more than others. If I could play them back to you, I could name off the actors you watched to get ready for the role."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man if you see another set of notes below this, its from the first chapter, but feel free to respond anyways  
> i wont put any romantic content in this fic (although my personal ships for this are ankorin and sakuino because i too am gay.)
> 
> sorry for slow updates! i have to get into a *mood* to write this and also, now that its getting into ACTUAL NARUTO events we see in the series, i gotta review episodes and chapters, which i lose focus on easily. 
> 
> I added that part about Sakura's growthspurt because i love the idea of tall sakura. tree-like sakura. so cute.
> 
> i love comments. I read all of them and try to reply, but sometimes I don't get to some. 
> 
> favorite naruto moments/quotes? random headcanons? 
> 
> ALSO i wrote another fic LIFE AND NO ESCAPE ( a one shot for now because i want to focus on this one). it focuses, yes on Sakura, as well as the Hyuuga cousins. while this fic's theme is [thing that will become more apparent later on], the one shot is focused more on belonging, identity, and lineage.


	9. one word from you and-

training ground seven, six-thirty am, don’t eat breakfast

 

 

Five-fifty am: Sakura wakes up without an alarm, makes her bed, and changes from pajamas to her regular training dress and leggings. It's actually just one of her normal red dresses with the Haruno circle on it that she uses for official Sakura Haruno business. At home, she trains in Root uniform-like black long sleeve and tapered pants.

 

 

Six am: Downstairs, Sakura is greeted by breakfast at Ume’s insistence. Despite Sakura showing her the day’s instructions, she wouldn’t budge about eating.

 

 

Six-ten am: Sakura puts on her ankle high sandals and walks to the Uchiha compound.

 

 

Six-twenty am: After concealing her presence, Sakura hides in a nearby tree, waiting for Sasuke to come out. He’s not the only one inside, she can tell, but just faintly. There is a shield of seals around the compound's walls, but after living with him for so long, Sakura can feel “Kagami’s” chakra signature. Halfway to the training ground, Sakura stops hiding her presence. Instead, she pretends that she’s hiding while following him. He looks annoyed but doesn’t comment.

 

 

Six-thirty am: On the dot. Sasuke and Sakura are the only ones there. Sakura tries to make small talk and brings up three keywords she shouldn’t have. Orphan, parents, and massacre are off of her Sasuke Conversation Vocabulary list. Naruto arrives and annoys him further.

 

 

Seven-thirty am: All attempts at small talk failed. Sasuke is standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at the entrance, waiting. Naruto is practicing his moves by punching and kicking the air. Up above on a tree branch, Sakura is watching them both.

 

 

Eight-thirty am: Both boys are sitting down on the grass.

 

 

Nine-thirty am: The same.

 

 

Ten-o-seven am: Kakashi arrives at training ground seven to the beautifully harmonized chorus of twelve year olds screaming, “You’re late!”

 

 

“Hey guys, good morning,” he replies nonchalantly and sets an alarm clock, “it’ll go off at noon. Here I have two bells: your task is to take them from me before then. If you don’t have one by then, you don’t get lunch. In fact, I’ll tie you to a stump and eat in front of you… You’ll also fail and get sent back to the Academy. Come at me with the intent to kill: use shuriken and kunai if you want.”

 

 

“Won’t you be in danger?” Sakura asks as if she’s never come at someone with the intent to kill.

 

 

“Yeah. You’re so slow you can't even dodge an eraser! We’ll definitely kill you!”

 

 

“In the real world, those with no talent bark the loudest,” Kakashi throws back, “Ignore Mr. Deadlast and start when I say.”

 

 

Before Naruto can launch a kunai at him, Kakashi appears behind him, “Calm down. I haven’t said start yet.”

 

 

“Well, you’ve got the killing intent part down,” he continues, “ Seems like I’m starting to like you guys. Okay! Let’s get going. Ready, Begin!”

 

 

To stay on Team Seven, which Danzo expected of her, Sakura needs a bell. To keep her cover, she can’t use flashy techniques. What to do, what to do. From the cover of a bush next to Sasuke, she watches Naruto charge at Kakashi.

 

 

“Ninja Lesson one: Taijutsu.” He dodges every attack from Naruto before Naruto even knows what his own body is going to do, eventually releasing the “1000 years of pain” that lands Naruto in a nearby lake. Kakashi catches two shuriken that Naruto throws. 

 

 

Naruto’s attacks, Kakashi escapes easily before the hits land. The cycle repeats until Kakashi uses the Kawarimi on one of Naruto’s clones. After Naruto falls for his rope trap, Kakashi lectures him, “A shinobi must be able to see what’s underneath the underneath.” Sasuke takes this opportunity to release a barrage of shuriken and kunai, but Kakashi uses another Kawarimi with a piece of wood.

 

 

Sakura decides to follow Sasuke with her presence concealed but sends a clone to go further into the woods. More cover means more ways she can conceal what she’s doing.

 

 

“Sasuke-kun? Sasuuke-kun!” the clone calls out before she’s surrounded by leaves, “Huh? What’s going on? Where’s sensei?”

 

 

The clone follows Sasuke’s voice calling out for her to an extremely wounded (genjutsu) Sasuke. While she knows to call out “Kai!”, clones don’t have chakra. Instead, she settles on letting out a shriek that rings throughout the training ground before dispelling. 

 

 

The real Sakura watches as the real Sasuke smirks at the scream. 

 

 

“I’m not the same as them,” he says to a Kakashi leaning against a tree.

 

 

_ Tree _ . 

 

 

From about ten feet away in the brush, Sakura silently focuses her chakra towards the trunk.

 

 

It only takes a little chakra, she can do this.

 

 

“Say that after you get a bell…” a small branch emerges from the trunk, carefully, hooking onto the bells, “Sasuke-kun.”

 

 

Now for the important part. 

 

 

Kakashi straightens his back and walk towards Sasuke (good, the bells didn’t make a noise). Sasuke attacks him and the fight sends them away from that tree.

 

 

Quickly, Sakura grabs the bells from the branch -- which she had to snap off because it already petrified over --  and muffles their twinkling with her palm. Judging by the shadows and the time of year, she’s got around thirty minutes left. She ventures into the forest, following the others’ footprints, until she gets to the edge of a clearing.

 

 

In the middle, Sasuke’s head sticks out of the ground. Alright, this’ll be easy. 

 

 

“Sasuke-kun!” she calls out as she runs towards him, “Are you oka- Eh!”

 

 

“What?”

 

 

“It-it’s the bells?” like how someone would perform the ryo-coin-behind-your-ear trick, Sakura pretends to pick up the bells from behind his head.

 

 

“Heh, that idiot wasn’t careful.” He grunts, struggling to get out of the ground. Sakura sits down without offering to help, only providing a shit-eating grin that reads as “Wow! We got the bells and Naruto didn’t!”. Sasuke squints at her like a ball of yarn he’s trying to figure out how to untangle. (He has two ends. One is “annoying fangirl”, and the other is “someone who won’t even offer to help me out -- not that I need the help of course”. Maybe these are two different strands of yarn, somehow.) 

 

 

“Useless,” Sakura can hear him grumble. Her grin drops into a neutral expression.

 

 

Just as he gets out and receives a bell from Sakura, the clock rings out. Back where they started, Naruto is already tied to the stump where the clock sits.

 

 

“You guys look really hungry. Oh and by the way, something about the training. There’s no need for you guys to go back to the Academy.” Sasuke smirks, lifting his bell.

 

 

Sakura does the same, but asks, “What about Naruto, doesn’t he get sent back?”

 

 

Naruto gawks at the bells, “How!?”

 

 

Kakashi’s eyes flash open for a second, but the surprise is put away quickly (he doesn’t want the kids to get the idea that they could ever surprise him). “No, it seems you misunderstood. All three of you should quit as ninjas.”   
  


 

“What? Why do we have to quit?”

 

 

“You misunderstood the answer to this test: teamwork. You are a three man squad. Not two, and definitely not one. The purpose of the test is to see whether you can forget about your own interest and successfully work together. Yet… Sakura, instead of thinking about Naruto, who was right next to you, you wanted to help Sasuke, who was far away. Naruto, you were just running around by yourself. Sasuke, you assumed others would get in your way and tried to do everything yourself. And even when you two managed to get the bells,” Kakashi points at Sasuke and Sakura, “You left Naruto behind to fend for himself.”

 

 

He pauses with back towards all of them, "I'll give you one more chance after lunch, but it will be even harder. If you want the challenge, eat lunch. Don't feed Naruto any. It's his punishment for trying to do it solo, and if he gets any, you will fail immediately." Kakashi turns to look at the three in the eyes (because he's taller than them, the angle of eye contact looks like a glare) and shunshins away.

 

 

"Heh, he's just worried that I'll be too powerful if I eat," Naruto says despite his stomach grumbling nearly drowning out his voice, "I'm not hungry anyway."

 

 

What Kakashi provides are those premade convenience store bento. Specifically, it's the one across the street from the Yamanaka's flower shop that's been slowly going out of business. Despite not having the about of an Inuzuka, Sakura's senses are fine tuned, especially after years of eating Ume's homemade meals. That's all to say that Sakura can tell it's from the bargain section and that it's been there for a while even if it doesn't look like it. The yellow of the tamagoyaki matches the off-highlighter yellow of the pickled dikon. There is a faint metallic scent emanating from the bento that really shouldn't be there.

 

 

She stops the gag reflex before it starts. After setting down the box in front of him, she takes a kunai from her leg pouch. Even though she’s seen some genin who would never pass a test like this, Sakura figures that, if she and Naruto fail, there’s no way Sasuke would pass because he’d have no team to join. Without all three of them, there will be none of them. Keeping two civilians in check is much easier than two genin. Besides, Kakashi only said no  _ feeding _ Naruto.

 

 

With a deft stroke, the ropes that tie Naruto to the post fall to the ground.

 

 

Kakashi never said anything about freeing him. The kid’s old enough to feed himself

 

 

“S-sakura-chan, Sasuke?” the boy says with flushed cheeks and adoring eyes. Sasuke, who is holding his own bento out to Naruto already, gives a soft, enigmatic “hn”.

 

 

“Thanks, you two.”

 

 

Their instructor’s chakra presence comes into range.

 

 

In a violent gust of wind and dust, he appears before them, “You guys...!”

 

 

“Pass!” As the wind settles down, he meets them at eye level again, but this time, with his body and not just the tilt of his face.

 

 

Unable to chain down her drive to seek out knowledge, Sakura blurts out a, “why?”

 

 

“A ninja must see underneath the underneath. Those who break the rules and codes of the ninja world are called trash. But, you know what? Those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash.” Training ground seven blesses him with silence in that moment. A breeze clears the mysticism that hushed the boys in rapt attention; a smile spreads across Naruto’s face, Sasuke turns away in contemplation. Sakura decides to paint on a look of awe, more humble than Naruto’s, something she saw when some of her Academy classmates received their hitai-ate.

  
  


 

* * *

 

 

 

Sometimes Kakashi feels like he’s watching his own life happen again. Team seven: the broody one, last of his clan; the idiot who wants to be Hokage; the girl; and of course, him, in the starring role of charismatic teacher who everyone in the village loves, obviously. 

 

 

The photo is another one of these coincidences. Yes, he put the boys on either side of the girl and had to use his hands to get them to face the same way, just like his Team Minato photo. But it's the variable he didn’t control, Sakura, who looks most like the old photo. Same haircut, same two peace-sign pose. He hates it. The way it churns his stomach and makes him think that his life  _ is _ really happening again. 

 

 

“Kakashi, something wrong?”

 

 

“It seems the Sandaime did not bless me with three wonderful little angels.”

 

 

“That’s just the youthfulness of genin! Welcome to the joys of being a jonin teacher,” exclaims Asuma in a scarily accurate Might Guy impression that only makes Kakashi want to vomit all over the jonin break room even more.

 

 

Kakashi slides the four copies of the Team Seven photo back in their original envelope to give to the kids later, “Maa, careful now, if you say ‘youthful’ three times, he’ll really appear.”

 

 

* * *

  
  


 

Sakura sits cross-legged in the basement of the house where Ume stores pickles and dried foods; she’s been doing this often, coming down here to train, because Danzo stopped using her for Root missions, prioritizing Team Seven activity. Punishment for being inadequate, she knows (she thinks).

 

Before her is the incomplete scroll of Mokuton techniques that she has read so many times already that the edges are worn and soft despite her best efforts to take care of it (imperfections, imperfections). After months of vigorously studying the text, cross referencing it with other chakra suppressing techniques, albeit for normal shinobi, Sakura realized that, this time, she needed to perform the jutsu herself to fully understand the Hokage-Style Sixty-Year-Old Technique — Kakuan Entering Society with Bliss-Bringing Hands.

 

Boar.

 

Dog.

 

Bird.

 

Monkey.

 

Ram.

 

Monkey.

 

Tiger.

 

The ten pillars that she forms are the size and shape of Ume's katsuobushi grater box. Imperfect, she judges, comparing them to the supposedly person-sized pillars drawn on the scroll. Still, Sakura scoots closer and touches one to inspect what she formed. Despite the petrification of the wood, she can sense what the Shodaime intended. The way the chakra moves inside the pillars, how and where it builds up, clues her in to the fact that they are only there for two reasons. One, to cage the target in, and two, to amplify the strength of the chakra within said area so he could stand further away from the target. 

 

Essentially, all that is needed for the chakra suppression is the "sit" kanji on her palm and enough chakra to encircle the Biju or Jinchuuriki. That being said, it would be a lot easier to suppress a Jinchuuriki 's chakra: it comes gift wrapped.

  
  
  


* * *

 

 

 

“Sakura?” Rin asks, “Ino-chan hasn’t come over recently, is everything alright?” 

 

 

“We’ve decided to focus on our teams for now.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

 

“Naruto-kun?”

 

Naruto turns around, shocked at the unfamiliar voice calling his name… affectionately?

 

“T-thats me!”

 

“You’re on my niece’s team, right? You should come over for dinner sometime!”

 

“Really? You sur-” His stomach grumbles, a mini thunderstorm rolling across his insides.

 

Sakura’s aunt stifles a laugh, “I’m making katsu-curry tonight, come with?”

 

He looks to the ground, ashamed of his hunger, not just for food, but connection; for communion. He feels guilty for wanting, even though its for a  _ necessity _ .

 

Holding out one of her three grocery bags, all at-capacity, she reassures him, “If it makes you feel better, you can help me out starting with carrying this for me.”

 

“I can do that! I’ll carry two!” Naruto shouts before a worried look takes over his face, “But I don’t think Sakura’ll be happy. She doesn’t like me.”

 

“Maa, maa,” she waves her hand dismissively, “She’s just slow to warm up to people!” ( She’s lying, of course.)

 

When they get to her house, Naruto meekly sets the bags on the floor just inside the door. As he hurries to take off his shoes, he gazes around in wonder, which only extends his shoe-removing process.

 

“Your house is really cool, Ume-san!”

 

“Thank you!” Ume calls out from the kitchen, “Cooking won’t take long, just twenty or so minutes. Sakura, I’m home and I brought a guest!”

 

From the upper floor, Naruto can hear his teammate’s footsteps and voice grow louder, “Ume-nee, a guest? You should have told me. I-” She stops at the top of the stairs when she sees him, “Oh.  _ Oh. _ ”

 

When Naruto sees her, he feels  _ happy _ . There's this bubbly feeling in his stomach that's warm like when he's done eating ramen, and if that's not happiness, nothing is. It's usually there whenever he comes near her. It's okay if she doesn't like him now, he thinks, because she'll warm up eventually and then they'll have a mutual bubbly feeling. 

 

"Why don't you and Naruto go hang you in your room? Go talk about kunai or whatever those ninja knives are." (Rin knows Sakura can't trade one blonde for another in the same way she can't trade one goggled, hokage-bound boy for another, but new friends can help heal the wounds of old friends' departures.)

 

"Hai," Sakura replies in a drawn out exhale. Naruto follows her lazily beckoning hand up the stairs and down the halls.

 

Her room is something to see. It's the polar opposite of his apartment: meticulously organized and clean without a trace of dust. It oozes with girliness. Most of the room is pink, light pink like her hair, and the minority rest are in pastel tints. The few non-essential items she has in her room all have a certain theme to them. 

 

He sounds out one of her posters,"Yo-shi-tsu-ne?"

 

“And the Thousand Sakura. Three Taira generals survive a battle against the Minamoto, so the Minamoto general Yoshitsune sends his brother, the new shogun, their false heads. Yoshitsune flees his brother’s persecution to find the three generals,' she recites, scratching her arm with a robustness that draws blood.

 

“Wow, you like plays? That’s so elegant of you Sakura-chan-”

 

“Just a passing interest.” She has six other posters, all in the same woodblock style and with “Konoha Revue” in the corner, on her wall. By her desk, the wall is plastered with magazine cut outs of ladies with dramatic face paint that also look like the posters. He can see the word “Acting techniques” and “Kabuki” on all the books on her shelf that aren’t about shinobi stuff.

 

There’s a couple framed pictures of her and Ino or her and her aunt --one has some dark haired kunoichi in it -- and there’s a worn out bean-looking plushie, but Naruto can’t help but blurt out, “ _ Yeah _ , and I have a passing interest in ramen.”

 

Sakura stops scratching her arm. Naruto looks over, and he swears he can see bone where her fingers tore up two streaks of flesh from the elbow to the wrist. Before, he considers screaming for Ume, she’s already removed her culprit hand. Her arm is completely fine.

 

“Kids, dinner is ready! I finished lighting fast!” Ume shouts from downstairs -- really, Naruto is getting no time to process the things he sees in this house.

 

Sakura leaves first, which Naruto takes as a challenge. On the staircase, Naruto catches up to her and, from then until the dinner table, they’re neck and neck. He, however, manages to sit down first, grinning.

 

“Well,” Ume says as she paddles out rice and ladles out curry, “I’ll take this as a compliment to my cooking.”

 

Naruto prods at the curry, rice, and pork cutlet with a spoon. All the sudden he feels nervous ‘cause he’s never been to someone’s house for dinner. When he goes to Ichiraku’s, he’s still a customer. When Iruka treats him to dinner because he’s a busy teacher guy, they go to Ichiraku’s. No one’s cooked for him before, not like this. He takes a bite.

 

He takes a bite and it tastes like  _ home _ . Naruto can’t compare this to ramen; they are just too different. It’s thick and rich with spices, making him finally see why someone would ever choose rice instead of noodles for a meal. There are potatoes, carrots, and white onion instead of his usual vegetables of choice -- green onion, bamboo shoots, and seaweed -- yet he doesn’t mind. Really, it’s just too good! There is none of his favorite thin sliced pork, but he can’t imagine the dish without the thick cubes of beef. And the pork cutlet? What the hell? The bready crunch is a near foreign experience, and nearly sends him into an out of body experience when he bites through to the juicy meat.

 

“Ume-san, a-are you a kitchen god or something? How can you make something that isn’t ramen so tasty?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

At the end of dinner, she invites Naruto over for breakfast too. He does come the next morning, uncharacteristically meek; however, that quickly becomes a thing of the past. To Sakura’s irritation, it becomes routine. Naruto comes over for breakfast and they leave to go to training or a D-rank.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sasuke finds him as he feeds some of his crows from his room within the main house. The sliding doors are open to the outside, letting in fresh air and sunlight.

 

“I’m back,” he says and drops a bag of groceries onto the tatami.

 

(About a month after Shisui came back to him, Sasuke opened up about the massacre. “Everyone thought he killed you! And then he was angry all the time, and then he,” Sasuke began to tear up, “And then he killed everyone.” He sobbed, so loud and hard, it could be heard from the walls of the compound. “That’s why I have to kill him. I have to avenge everyone.” Shisui tried to pacify him by rocking the huddled, crying mass of a boy in his arms. Before the tragedy, Sasuke had never let Shisui hold him like this. He always threw a fit, wanting Itatchi instead. This moment tasted more bitter than sweet.

 

Once he could audibly whisper over Sasuke’s sobs, Shisui told him the basics of what he knew: the coup d’etat, the Kotoamatsukami, Danzo, the attempted suicide. Still, Shisui said, he could not forgive Itachi for killing everyone in the clan. No matter how cornered he was, the massacre was just too much.)

 

Reaching out to the source of the voice, Shisui ruffles Sasuke’s hair, “How was training today, kiddo?”

 

Not bothering to remove his hand, Sasuke replies, “Dobe tripped over an uncovered pile of manure. Then, Sakura struggled to shovel some, but when she managed to pick it up, it was lighter than she expected and it flung behind her,straight towards Kakashi,who was reading his book. I really thought it was going to hit, but he dodged, and Naruto got hit instead.”

 

“So you’re finally warming up to your team?”

 

“No,” he replies, lifting a tomato from the bag to his mouth, “They’re all idiots who’ll get in the way.” The little smile he’s hiding behind the tomato says otherwise.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Got a problem with Sakura-chan, teme?” Naruto sees the way Sasuke’s been glaring at them when he and Sakura walk (more like run. Sakura tries to get there before he does and never succeeds because Naruto’s stamina is monstrous) into the training ground together; he’s been seeing it for a whole week, and Naruto’s sick of it.

 

The reply: a scoff.

 

Sakura sniffles (she’s not saddened by the quite-expected reaction, the air is just too dry today, causing her nose to run).

 

“What? Jealous?” he roughly grabs Sasuke by the collar, “Pretty boy feels left out? Try Ume-san’s full spread of breakfast and you won’t be so… so…”

 

“Haughty,” Sakura supplies, sounding somewhere far away.

 

“Yeah! Six-thirty tomorrow at,” Naruto lets go of the collar and grabs Sasuke’s hand instead, using his permanent marker for pranks to write down Sakura’s address. “Teme’s a coward, so he won’t actually show up. Don’t worry Saku-”

 

Sasuke interrupts, “fine.” 

 

“Wait, what?” Sasuke turns his head away, and Naruto almost drops the marker on the ground.

 

“I said. Fine, dobe. I’ll join you two useless lumps for breakfast tomorrow.”

 

“Oh my god, oh my god. S-s-sasuke-k-k-kun is coming over to m-m-my h-h-house?” Sakura stutters out like Hinata.

 

And thus, Sasuke becomes part of the routine too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“My cute little genin all arrive at the same time,  _ and _ ,” Kakashi sniffs twice, “all of them smell the same?”

 

 

“Gross!” Naruto and Sakura say at the same time.

 

 

“I’m so hurt. I wasn’t even invited, that’s rude, you know. Now, don’t be sad, I’m only telling you this because as your jounin instructor-”

 

 

“It’s also rude to be late,” Sasuke smirks, granting him a supporting laugh from Naruto that Sasuke shows no signs of being annoyed by.

 

 

Kakashi gives the trio of brats a jovially creased eye, “Anyways, let’s go get our mission for the day.”

 

 

“Better not be someone’s chores again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys guys guys guess what arc is up next :^)
> 
> i dont even know how i wrote this chapter so fast (hint: its because im procrastinating on school work)
> 
> i <3 all my readers... thanks for letting me share this wish fulfillment fic with you guys!
> 
> theres probably have more stuff i want to say that i cant remember right now :,-) oh well i am too excited to post.


	10. - jump off of this ledge i'm on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally some violence! (to be honest, i think the way i depicted it is much less graphic than some of my descriptions of emotions. maybe.)

"I'm so sorry!" Rin frets about Sakura, "I forgot about all of our laundry with all of the neighborhood Sakura viewing party preparations."

  


"It's fine, Nee-san. I'll just wear something else."

  


That “something else” Sakura chooses are her at-home training clothes: plain black fitted long sleeves and tapered joggers. Rin taps her chin in contemplation. This… this doesn’t quite match her image.

  


In the back of her closet, they pull out a birthday present from Anko she never got around to wearing. Supposedly, its  a custom order mesh armor shirt from her go-to shop. Instead of knit, the metal fibers are tightly woven to look more like organza than fishnet. It catches light more easily, likely because there’s much more surface area, and so very bright red. “Like a coral snake!” Anko said, “they have aposematic coloring to say ‘don’t fuck with me!’ I think you need some of that” and she proceeded to pinch Rin’s cheeks. The style is that of a changshan -- a standing collar as tall as her neck with two metal fasteners, long sleeves that bigger than those of a kimono, and a hem that reaches past Sakura’s knees with two slits up to the waist on both sides. As Sakura swings her arms to and fro, the fabric swish-swishing satisfyingly, Rin notices at least twenty different ways the sleeves could hinder her movement or be used against her altogether.

  


The red garment goes over what she was previously wearing and looks like it belongs. Rin helps Sakura fasten the front flap to the side seams, making neat, pretty bows of the two pairs of fabric ties.

  


Taking a step back to inspect her improvisation, Rin nods with approval, though not because it looks proper for a shinobi to wear. She looks as cute as a doll. Maybe, if she sat seiza, Sakura would look like part of a hinamatsuri display. It reminds her of the kind of ninja Rin wanted to be, the kind she idolized, before Obito came into her life, bright and hopeful and a knack for getting injured. The flashy color brings Rin back to her early Academy days with a kunoichi instructor specialized in all sorts of undercover missions from escort and reconnaissance to assassination. A femme fatale in shimada hair, a kimono, and geta.

  


In all likelihood, that teacher died in the Third Shinobi War as she did. Afterall, Sakura never came home recounting her teacher’s wild nights in red-light districts across the continent or interrupting her fake geisha routine to stick a senbon in a daimyo’s eye. Rin hopes she’s still out there though, hidden among all the civilians.

  


No time for the past right now, Rin’s got a kid to get ready for her “first C rank mission”. She claps, “I think I hear the boys outside. I’ll go pack your lunches.”

  


From the kitchen, as she’s preparing three boxes of rice balls (one with umeboshi centers, one grilled in miso, and one with katsuobushi centers), she hears the door open.

  


"Are you really wearing _that_?" Sasuke asks incredulously, "you'll be more useless than you already are!"

  


“Sasuke-teme shut the fuck up! Why'd ya gotta be so mean in the morning”

  


“Tch. It's called being realistic, dobe.”

  


Sakura sniffles to no one in particular, but loud enough so the three of them could hear,  “T-there was nothing left, and I still wanted to look cute…I’m going on a trip with Sasuke-kun.”

  


While he tries to maintain his well worn stoicism, Rin can still see how Sasuke flinches with embarrassment when he says, “so annoying.”

  


“Well I think you look super cute, Sakura-chan!” Naruto gives her a thumbs up that goes ignored.

  


“And I think you’ll be late to the gates if you don’t leave now,” she hands the trio their respective bentos.

  


* * *

  


Tazuna looks like a man staring at death as he gives Sakura another once over,  “It’s not like you’re going to meet the Queen of Wave.”

  


“There’s a queen in Wave?” Naruto turns around to face him, walking backwards now.

  


“I thought shinobi went to school. Did he fail? Am I really okay with my life in this squirt and the little princess’s hands?”

  


Kakashi closes his eye to indicate a smile, “Aha ha. I’m a jonin, so I’ll be watching them. Don’t worry.”

  


“This is the future Hokage you’re talkin’ to!” Naruto shouts and then promptly slams into a tree.

  


Tazuna takes a drink. 

  


There’s a crow following them, and the only other person conscious of it besides Sakura is Sasuke. Well, as long as it doesn’t snatch his eyes from their sockets, the crow can keep flying. It's Sakura Haruno's mission to protect the bridge builder, but she's a frail, useless civilian girl and no one expects her to pull her weight like that. If she expects to keep her cover for as long as possible, just like chakra control helps her keep her store of chakra for as long as possible, Uguisu can’t do more than the bare minimum. 

  


She sees Kakashi’s eye in the reflection of a passing puddle. In the following minutes, a great deal of things happen with two Demon Brothers, and Sakura does none of them except the occasional “kyaa!” or gasp. Her lack of participation is a surprise to no one. Actually, she doesn’t think any of them looked at her. She coos over Sasuke and reprimands Naruto with reused lines from February, then Naruto exclaims how he’ll “not do nothing” next time. Kakashi agrees to let them continue on the now more dangerous mission, in part citing Sasuke’s skills during the confrontation.

  


The kids eat their rice balls in silence as Tazuna and Kakashi have, what their sensei calls, “grown up talk”. Sakura only eats two of hers. Then, because she has a reputation as a “teacher’s pet” she should uphold, she offers Kakashi the last one.  


  
“The genjutsu you used to convince us that you died must have taken a looot of chakra, Kakashi-senei,” Sakura says despite the fact that she can pull it off without breaking into a (noticeable) sweat.

  


“Ah, I have _one_ good student. Thanks for thinking of your poor, old sensei.” When he bites into the first corner, Kakashi’s eyes squeeze into a straight line instead of the usual squinty crescent. Upon further inspection, Sakura observes that, instead of an umeboshi, the center is made of anko paste. Knowing Ume, the rice isn’t ordinary white, but glutinous. Better for desserts.

  


“... It’s sweet,” he gags low, so an untrained civilian ear can’t hear him say it.

  


(By the look of these kids’ lunches, they’re reasonably well-off, so it’s not like the A-to-C grade mission pay is going to hurt them as much as it would hurt him. Besides, one’s determined to fight some bad guys and another is a goody two shoes, it’d be easy to guilt trip them into staying on the mission once he has fully explained the context. Wave can’t afford time wasted on the bridge.

  


So, Tazuna guilts them. Clean of conscious.)

  


None of Sakura’s missions have taken her to the coast, and while Konoha and the surrounding Land of Fire have their fair share of bodies of freshwater, none of them feel like this. When she sticks her arm into the water as they’re riding the boat to Wave, it's like it disappears into it -- no, that's not right. It’s like her arm belongs in it, like skin has never meant anything to her. The man, exasperated from scolding Naruto, uses the same hushed scorn to warn her of flesh eating fish. 

  


“An invasive species,” he spits with more venom than the first part. It’s the invasive part that angers him, not the flesh eating. Gatou, likely. He’s used tactics like this to disrupt ecosystems and starve out resistance before. Root operatives are required to read dossiers on the world’s major players. Sakura hasn’t been back to report in since graduation (because she’s not good enough).

  


Quickly, she snaps her arm out of the water, using the other arm to cradle it like a dying lover, and lets out a small, “eep!”. Sasuke exhales a small laugh before Naruto punches him on the shoulder. Once the boys’ attention drift somewhere else, she lets her arm skim across the sea for the rest of the boat ride.

  


Naruto’s “next time” comes soon after they reach land again. He does take action this time; Naruto and Sasuke both move in to protect Tazuna (she’s already been standing there). As Team Seven’s fight with Zabuza of the Mist (missing nin, former member of the Seven Swordsmen, wielder of the Kubikiribōchō, attempted to assassinate the Yondaime Mizukage -- the Mizukage whose regime initiated the Bloody Mist: bloodline purges and witch hunts to find the Sanbi’s JInchuuriki) rages on, Sakura watches passively again, taking note of each members’ fighting pattern and habits. 

  


Part of her mind drifts to other matters. Would Danzo want her to retrieve Kakashi’s sharingan if he died here? It's not in her mission,  but the Uchiha dojutsu is notoriously in short supply. 

  


Sakura shouldn't let Kakashi die until Danzo tells her what to do.

  


If he tells her what to do ever again. She hasn’t been given any short term missions, nor has she had her skills assessed in months. She hasn’t had her data collected by Orochimaru or Kabuto in years. 

  


Why? The ocean echoes her question from just miles away

  


Mist fills in from all directions, pulling all of her attention into the moment. Kakashi, Naruto, and Sasuke haven’t moved from the place she last saw them; however, Zabuza is behind them, dividing her and Tazuna from the rest of the team. With the angle the Kubikiribōchō is at and their vision obscured, both of the boys are headed towards decapitation.

  


(The girl jumps in front of Tazuna, knocking him on his ass. Zabuza swings his sword. The demon isn’t even looking at them as he swings his sword. The girl watches her team and doesn’t move. The sword passes through the small space between her collar and her skull in one clean sweep. Tazuna can _see_ her head float in the air for a gruesome moment even though her feet touch the ground.

  


He let these immature brats stay on the mission. He should’ve argued for a chunin team. 

  


_Squelch_. The girl’s head falls back on her neck, perfectly aligned. The red seam bleeds down, down into her dress

  


Her corpse doesn’t fall.

  


The girl turns her neck like her head’s never not been attached.

  


“Are you okay Tazuna-san?” her voice is so sweet he thinks he’s going to be sick.)

 

 

She lifted off the balls of her feet just as Kubikiribōchō hit her C4 vertebra, lifting the path of the blade over Naruto and Sasuke’s heads. That fills her quota for Konoha team work for the entire mission, in her opinion. 

  


The hunter nin isn’t a hunter nin, and nobody notices. There’s no use to point it out know, since Sakura knows Team Seven shouldn’t fight if they don’t have to, especially in their current state. Especially if they want to make Sakura’s job easier. The three of them hobble to Tazuna’s house. Kakashi slightly leaning on Tazuna, Sasuke slightly leaning on Naruto -- which Naruto, surprisingly, doesn’t object to. Instead, he’s asking Sasuke how he “made his body go ‘poof!’ into a bunch of leaves.” Kakashi subtly turns his face towards this part of their conversation. 

  


* * *

  


Tazuna welcomes them into his house and introduces them to his family and doesn’t look Sakura in the eye. Not looking someone in the eye even though you look everyone else in the eye is something Ume would say is rude, exclusionary, _offensive_ . Any offense he meant rolls off of Sakura’s skin as she thanks Tsunami for letting her team stay in her lovely home with the same voice she uses on the neighborhood ladies (the neighborhood ladies always tell Ume that Sakura is the most _perfect_ little girl).

  


When Kakashi says that they’re all using their chakra wrong -- really, it should be that the boys are using their chakra wrong because Sakrua hasn’t let him see her use chakra this entire mission -- Naruto asks what chakra is. Their jounin instructor asks Sakura to explain, so she recites the textbook, the genin level one not the book used in the academy, word for word. Likely, this confuses Naruto even more, so Kakashi assigns tree climbing without hands while he goes to discuss something with Tazuna.

  


As it turns out, both Sakura and Sasuke already knew how to tree walk on their first try, though only Sakura could walk on water. Naruto is unhappy watching both attempts, but returns to his usual mood when Sasuke lost his footing.

  


“Hah! Don’t become fish food, teme!”

  


“Speak to me once you can take a step up that tree, dobe.”

 

 

Sakura takes a seat on the surface, bobbing up and down with the rolls of water, and pulls out a magazine from her backpack.

  


“Sakura-chan! Is it really that easy for you?” She ignores him. Sasuke mutters something to him that causes Naruto to start laughing.

  


Back from his short meeting, Kakashi watches the boys with a half lidded eye, “My, my. You two should be practicing so you can better protect Tazuna next time.”

  


“He,” Naruto wheezes, “he said it looks like she’s copying the copy nin!” 

  


“Hm, you know what else we have in common besides reading? Good chakra control.”

  


* * *

  


From sun down to sun up, Naruto practices climbing trees without using his hands and even succumbs to sleep as he stands on a tree trunk. The impact of the fall doesn’t rouse him. Maybe the brain damage helps lull him to sleep, Sakura observes from far above, hidden in the leaves. With Sasuke safe under Kakashi’s eye, Sakura snuck out to prevent the Kyuubi’s jinchuuriki from being kidnapped.

  


Someone approaches Naruto in the clearing. Without leaving her perch, Sakura estimates the person’s weight, the way he carries himself. It’s the “hunter nin” yesterday. She watches, ready, as he wakes Naruto. He pretends to be a civilian, goes along with Naruto’s presumption that he’s a woman, and allows Naruto to pick medicinal herbs with him -- no attempts at kidnapping. 

  


“Do you have someone important to you?” he asks, pricking Sakura’s ears. Is he searching for a way to hurt Naruto? Leverage?

  


“What?”

  


“When a person has something important they need to protect, that’s when they truly become strong.”

  


“Yeah. I understand that very well.”

  


“You will become strong. Let's meet again somewhere.”

  


“Sure!”

  


“Oh. And I’m a boy.”

  


Jumping from branch to branch, Sakura follows him until she knows they’re out of earshot. Morning sun falls between the leaves like party streamers, and she lets herself leap from a branch followed by a confetti of leaves.

  


“What does that mean, ‘become truly strong’?” she asks as the rustling of the leaves dies down. There’s some knowledge you can’t find in books.

  


“What?” he turns around, senbon clenched between four of his fingers.

  


“So mean! You didn’t do that to Naruto.” 

  


He doesn’t move. She drops her expression.

  


“Why do you need anything more than ‘complete the objective’ to be ‘truly strong’?”

  


“Because ‘complete the objective’ alone is no way to live.”

  


“What if it's for the village?”

  


Tucking the senbon away, his eyes unfocus, gazing somewhere else in time, “Sometimes the village isn’t worth fighting for.”

  


“Or,” he looks at her, deep inside her eyes, past her own recognition, “because the village doesn’t care about you. Instead of taking care of you like everyone else, it hurts you.”

  


Sakura mulls over the information, then tucks it away and slides her civilian face on, “Thank you for your time, miss!”

  


“Mmhm!” he smiles just the same, though the muscles around his mouth are visibly straining, “You should find your important something soon. Don’t get lost now.”

  


* * *

  


Familiar is an odd way to describe the feeling of seeing your own grave. Nevertheless, familiar is what it is. There’s not much else Rin feels about it, so she moves on.

  


“Sorry I haven’t been here before,” she laughs to herself, “kids, you know?”

  


While hers looked well-kept, weeds and dirt crawl up the perimeter of her parents’ gravestones. It takes less than ten minutes to cut the plants and wash off the grime for both. 

  


“Rest well,” she says, splashing what she thinks was their favorite brand of sake onto each of their stones.

  


Rin finds Obito’s grandmother’s stone and does the same, foregoing the sake this time. It takes half an hour before she gives up trying to find Minato and Kushina’s graves, resigning herself to go home.

  


Most of her walk is her usual -- greeting after greeting and amassing various freebies from vendors who like her. On the quiet part of it, the part where all she hears is the rustling of her bags and her sandals on pavement, a crow lands next to her. Its cute, she thinks, as it hops with her to her front door.

  


She takes a seat on the stair step before her door and gives the crow a handful of nuts someone gave her. It caws happily.

  


* * *

  


Sasuke gets trapped in a cage of ice mirrors, and Sakura is protecting Tazuna. Then, Naruto gets trapped in the cage of ice mirrors too, and Sakura is still standing next to Tazuna. Whatever the not-hunter nin does in there, Sakura hopes it won’t damage Sasuke’s eyes.

  


“Have you forgotten?” Zabuza mocks Kakashi, dangling the future over his head, “I am a genius at silent killing, taking down the enemy by just their sound.”

  


Putting one hand on Tazuna’s shoulder as leverage, Sakura jumps behind the bridge builder and throws five senbon into the mist. They puncture the exposed skin of Zabuza’s right arm; one comes out the other side of his palm. Annoyed, he tears them out of his flesh, letting them clatter on the bridge. If he feels any pain, it shows in his aim. When Kakashi lands in front of Sakura, Zabuza swings. He swings his sword and falls just a centimeter short of where Kakashi’s chest is. His eyes widen slightly before he jumps back under the cover of the mist. Kakashi follows.

  


Sakura hears the whistling of a kettle and gets more irritated as the sound gets louder. The ice mirrors shatter as the not-hunter nin is thrown out. Only Naruto emerges from the wreckage.

  


He’s at a low enough state and far away enough from the village where he can take second on Sakura’s to do list.

  


Looking up at Tazuna with big, watery eyes like she’s seen from Inari, she asks, “ Tazuna-san, I need to check on my team m-mate.”

  


“Go,” he says, eyes pointed at his feet, unappreciative of what she thinks is her best crybaby impersonation.

  


She runs into the fray, using a shard of ice mirror to slide across the bridge, wet from Zabuza’s water release jutsus and Kakashi’s copies.

  


By Sasuke, she finds a crow hopping about his body. Unless the Kyuubi-enraged Naruto paused from pummeling his opponent, Sakura can only assume it was the crow that closed Sasuke’s eyes. Not caring that the crow pecks at her hand, she uses her index finger and thumb to spread his eyelids. Sakura catches the last glimpse of red fading back to black.

  


With two fingers on his carotid artery, Sakura assess aloud that “He’s not dead, idiot!” Which is good enough for her for now. No need to scoop his eyes out yet. Crossing her priority off of her list, she runs out to where Naruto continues to pummel the not-hunter nin -- who gave up resisting, but isn’t completely limp with death, not yet.

  


“Naruto!” time to test out one of her theories.

  


She shunshins to close the distance, saving time to avoid Naruto’s seal bursting open completely. What would someone say in a time like this? Likely, Naruto will remember what she says. After combing through lists of lines, she chooses:

  


“Stop! This isn’t you!”

  


That gets his attention. He turns, eyes wide and movements halting, as she -- 

  


Boar - Dog - Bird - Monkey - Ram - Monkey - Tiger

  


\-- wraps her arms around him. She squeezes her arms over his and holds his head with the hand that has the “sit” kanji on it. Naruto’s head rests on her shoulder, and his breathing slows to match hers.

  


(The world slows for him. The red that coats his vision drips away. He thinks of Iruka with the fuma shuriken sticking out of his back.)

  


“S-Sakura-chan… he’s really okay?” the blush that rises to his cheeks makes the cuts on his face bleed more. She’d like to choke him instead of hug him. To slow the blood flow, of course.

  


(Iruka is alive

  


and Sasuke is alive

  


and the world is okay.)

  


“Just _kill_ me,” a voice behind a cracked mask says.

  


Standing over the body, Naruto lets out a quiet, “You -- you’re from the forest… I-I can’t.”

  


“Not having a dream… not being needed by anyone… the pain of simply living. Zabuza has no use for weak shinobi! You’ve taken away my reason for existing.” Suddenly, his eyes seize over to Sakura, “I thought we were similar. I thought you would understand.”

  


Good little girls don’t kill people, even if they beg.

  


She widens her eyes and jumps stiffly, “Tazuna-san!” 

  


As she leaves, Sakura hears Naruto say, “Is this really the only way?”

  


There is no more mist to hide her shunshin, so she takes the safe route (it's the same route, but achieved by running) even if no one’s eyes are on her. 

  


Tazuna ruffles her hair, “You did good, little princess. I won’t tell your sensei anything.” His smile drops after her sensei shoves his hand through the not-hunter nin’s chest.

  


* * *

 

 

The forest gets denser before it starts to thin and reveal the village walls. When Naruto spots it --the familiar beige of his fourth favorite canvas -- his mood starts to pick up, and with it, the volume of his voice. Sasuke smiles to himself. It's home.

  


Kakashi gives a lazy wave to Izumo and Kotetsu, but their eyes turn to Sakura.

  


"Happy birthday, kid." "Hey birthday girl!"

  


A ninja is not supposed to be easily surprised, and yet his genin always manage to find a way.

  


"Eh? Sakura why didn't cha tell us?"

  


Even Sasuke contributes a,"you know these chuunin?"

  


"Ah," Sakura puts her pointer finger on her lower lip, "I guess I forgot about it. I've been thinking about… you know ..."

  


With gate paperwork done, they're sent on their way to the Hokage tower, though not before Sakura gets her hair ruffled by the gatekeepers.

  


As the gates close again, Sakura's pensive mood shifts to her usual upbeat, "I'm pretty familiar with them, Sasuke-kun! Mama and Papa travel a lot, so I have to go out of the village a lot to see them."

  


The boys shut up all the way to the tower, clearly uncomfortable with the mention of parents.

  


The Hokage nods, thanks the team for their perseverance despite the drastic change in mission rank, and hands Kakashi more paperwork to fill out. 

  


On their way out, Naruto bumps into a jounin. Both Sasuke and Sakura force his head down into an apologetic bow. Such beautiful teamwork reminds him about the upcoming nomination.

  


"It's fine," the jounin turns to him stiffly, "Senpai, it's been a long time."

  


"Maa, didn't I tell you just to call me Kakashi, Tenzo."

  


"This guy's face looks weird!" Naruto whisper-shouts when his teammates let him stand up again.

  


"Is this your genin team?" Tenzo asks with knitted brows, looking at Sakura.

  


Well no wonder, she looks completely unscathed and out of place with the exhausted rest of them. She looks back at Tenzo with annoyance. ( Sakura, in actuality, is looking at Tenzo normally. It's Naruto who made her face turn sour.) Best get the kids out of the tower before they start picking fights and giving him more paperwork to do.

  


* * *

  


“I’m home,” Sakura announces to the big, mostly empty house.

  


“Welcome back!”

  


Following the lone light to the dinner table, she finds Rin wide-smiled and sticking candles in a cake-for-two. Rin pulls her into a hug -- her special big hug, where she wraps her arms around Sakura’s so she can’t escape and cups the back of Sakura’s head -- all the while lightly scanning Sakura’s body for injuries. She’s never found any before because they heal on their own; it’s just a medic’s way of showing love.

  


She stops, sensing an entire plane of new cells dividing Sakura’s neck. Rin inhales sharply.

  


“You let your head get cut off?” Though it's a relief knowing something like that would heal… what if it didn’t? Sakura could have experimented on an arm or a leg before, but her head? The spinal cord and all of its accoutrements are -- well, they’re -- what Rin’s trying to get across is that they’re more dangerous things to tamper with. _‘Don’t do that again’_ she wants to say, but what if that ‘again’ could save her life or her team mate’s life. It’s been proven that it’ll reattach at least once before and -- 

  


Rin feels like she’s getting worked up over nothing, yet she still cries. Powerless to have prevented it. Helpless to prevent it in the future. Stranded and unable to do anything about it.

  


Against the skin of her neck, she hears her niece whisper a slow, “I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While it's not really a "pet peeve", it's really frustrating to me that so many fics shit on Sakura's outfit. I know most are for character development, but come on! Look at Kurenai or Temari's outfits. Those are even less mobile. Anyways, since this fic started out as "Sakura... but exaggerated" her clothing choices will follow suit. It wasn't supposed to be made out of mesh armor at first -- maybe something expensive and easily torn like silk -- but i missed Anko :-(  
> heres what it looks like
> 
> anyways, with shisui around, sasuke's emotionally available and bonds with Naruto much sooner.
> 
> Chunin exams arc is already being written along with another one-shot that I'm really excited for! Keep your eyes open for that.
> 
> Thanks for reading! None of the story is plotted out beforehand, so I'm just as in the dark about what's going to happen as you guys. aha ha hah ah :-)


	11. intermission i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while this still has plot relevance, this doesn't have Sakura or Rin POV. i realized i wanted to develop some other characters' a little more before chunnin exams.

_ When you read this note, visit me at the Academy _

 

Naruto knows this handwriting anywhere. It fills his memory of ages six through twelve and appears in his nightmares about pop quizzes even though he’s been a genin for months now. By this time, he checks the clock after setting his pack on the table, the Academy is just about finishing up.

 

He takes a quick shower, just long enough to remove the top film of grossness off his person -- and  _ oh  _ did he miss showering in his own house. Some of the best things in life did cost money, like plumbing with hot water. Fresh jumpsuit on, he stumbles out of his apartment while still tugging on his left sandal.

 

“Iruka-sensei!” Naruto slams the classroom’s sliding door open.

 

Iruka stands up from his desk, arms wide, as Naruto barrels toward him. As if he’s a little kid again, Iruka picks Naruto up and swings him around with the leftover force of Naruto’s run-and-jump hug.

 

When Iruka finally lets Naruto out of his arms, he grins wide and bright, “We can talk about your first mission outside of Konoha as we walk to Ichiraku’s.”

 

* * *

 

“And then, Jiji told us, ‘what you just completed was your first A-ranked mission.’ And, and then! He looked at me and said, ‘good job.’ So, uh,” Naruto meekly looks up at him. There are twin skies in his eyes full of innocence and trauma that make Iruka wish he could travel back in time.

 

“I’m proud of you,” he smiles with all the love he should have given Naruto all these years. It’s not enough, it’ll never be enough, but Naruto accepts it hungrily all the same.

 

Naruto suppresses a wobbly smile and channels his energy into a big whoop when Teuchi arrives with their orders. 

 

“Naruto,” Iruka looks up from his bowl, setting his chopsticks across the rim, “while you were gone, I fixed up my old house.”

 

“Hey, hey is this some roundabout way of telling me you’re getting married?”

 

“No-”

 

“What’s she look like?”

 

“No-”

 

“ Oh no, it's not Suzume-sensei. Is it?”

 

“No, Naruto. I fixed up my house and I want to know if you’d like to come live with me.”

 

The boy lights up, standing straight. He looks like he’s calculating something before he visibly deflates, “If its more than the apartment that I have now… I don’t think-”   
  
“No. What I mean is- is,” Iruka rubs the back of his hands over his eyes, then puts his hand on Naruto’s shoulder, “You won’t pay rent. I just- I just want to take care of you, give you as much of a childhood as I can.”

 

Naruto looks down at the wooden platform between their shoes.

 

“You deserve to be happy, Naruto.”

 

The wood platform is dyed a darker shade in splotches. As Naruto looks up, fat tears roll down his cheeks (there’s still baby fat on him).

 

“I’d like that a lot.”

 

* * *

 

The pink hair has been bothering him all day. He’s  _ seen _ that kind of freak-of-genetics hair before, years ago before he joined Anbu under Kakashi. Tenzo just couldn’t put his finger on it.

 

A Root mission maybe?

 

Using his Anbu level information clearance for… personal reasons for the first time, he dug through the genin files in the Hokage tower.

 

_ Team Seven lead by Jounin instructor Hatake Kakashi NR#009720: _

_ Haruno Sakura NR#012601, Uchiha Sasuke NR#012606, Uzumaki Naruto NR#012607 _

 

_ Haruno Sakura NR#012601 _

_ Born: March 28  _

Well, happy birthday.

_ Sex: female _

_ Blood type: O _

_ Parents/guardians: _

_ Father - Haruno Kizashi - civilian _

_ Mother - Haruno Mebuki - civilian _

_ Paternal Aunt - Haruno Ume - civilian (emergency contact) _

_ Naturalized Citizen _

_  City of Birth: Yasugi, Land of Fire _

 

Born in the capital, moved to Konoha at three years old. Back then, he would have been fourteen. Tenzo checks the date again; it's the same year he left Root.

 

Everything about this seems innocuous, but it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Against his -- well, not  _ better _ per se --  _ initial _ judgement, Tenzo scouts out her house from the trees.

 

Sakura and a woman he presumes to be Ume exit from the front door. With the street lamps in the civilian district so bright, he can clearly see their happy expressions. As he turns to follow them, a masked figure flickers into the house through an open window. Was that person wearing two red straps over their shoulders?

 

After leaving a wood clone outside, he follows the figure, hiding his chakra, as he melds into the walls of the house. It is far more protected than what he would have expected from a civilian.

 

(The house itself seems like an anomaly. He’s never seen this strange architectural style before; it's grotesque like a zombie stitched together with the corpses of other homes. The wooden frame of the house feels cage-like and claustrophobic.)

 

The masked figure stops in the kitchen to dig through one of their garbage bins. Now he can clearly see that this person is indeed a Root operative. Why would Danzo want someone’s trash?

 

Tenzo tells his wood clone to henge into a civilian woman, someone ordinary, and knock on the door. As soon as the masked figure hears it, they immediately stop to find another window to escape from. 

 

He picks up a ripped off notepad page from between the two trash cans and smiles at the design: pink lined paper bordered by four elongated cats with simple faces. Flipping it over, he reads clean, loopy writing.

 

_ Received word that Sakura has returned from C-ranked mission. Total time gone longer than expected. _

 

The smile slips off his face as a puzzled expression washes over in its place. As he tries to untangle the implications this has, his wood clone  outside dispels itself, signaling that Sakura and Ume are nearing. Calmly, he stuffs the note in his vest pocket and slips through a wall into a neighbor’s home. Then, another.

 

As soon as he is far away enough to walk on the open street, Tenzo heads to his apartment. It takes him a while before he realizes how uneven his steps are. Thinking about the note makes his head feel like the skin of a taiko drum during a festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i binged some naruto movies and they have no buisness being that good.  
> hell yeah: land of snow, crescent moon kingdom  
> mmm no: lost tower, stone of gelel  
> not going to watch tier: the last (you cant make me)
> 
> there will be one more intermission chapter before chunnin exams (sasuke and shisui!!!)  
> Yasugi (the name i used for the capital of Land of Fire) is where the goddess Izanami was buried after she was burned to death giving birth to her son, the god of fire
> 
> also, i've been contemplating embedding art in the chapters. how do you guys feel abt that? i'd probably use a skin to make sure it adapts to the width of the screen.
> 
> also also, did tenzo have the cursed tongue seal? did he get rid of it? if so, how?


	12. intermission ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two hundred kudos special! not a written chapter sorry


	13. intermission iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we have it, the last intermission!

Perched on his finger, Yatagarasu’s feet are warm with contentment. Shisui, unlike his crow, is wracked with anxiety. Today Sasuke is finally coming back from his disastrous first out-of-village mission, and he has yet to make up his mind about the eyes. 

 

 

If he takes back his original eye, would Itachi notice? Though Shisui signed the crow contract first and is therefore favored by the summons, Itachi will eventually call Yatagarasu back. Shisui can withhold certain crows and tell them not to tell Itachi about his return, but if a specific crow is called upon, there is no helping it.

 

 

His hand twitches into a three-finger grappling shape. It would be so easy just to take back his eye, his sight, his birthright. And yet, Yatagarasu weighs heavy with the reminder that even his best laid plans went awry. So what if he has Kotoamatsumaki? Danzo beat him last time, he could beat him again. Danzo has Kotoamatsumaki as well now.

 

 

The deep groan of the main Uchiha gates echoes through the mostly empty compound, snapping Shisui to attention. He slides on his geta and persuades Yatagarasu onto his shoulder. Sasuke’s home, the ghosts of the Uchiha compound seem to sing.

 

 

He finds Sasuke easily; his baby cousin looks exhausted, physically and emotionally, and greatly in need of a bath. But, Shisui thinks thankfully, he doesn’t look hardened by this experience. No, Sasuke looks far more open, willing to love and be loved, than he did when they were reunited.

 

 

(In their first year back together, he and Sasuke cleared the Uchiha compound of all the wreckage -- broken sliding doors, shattered windows, felled roof tiles -- and the rotting remains of their clansmen. Most of the time its clothing, musty and moth bitten, or food wasting away in kitchens untouched by anyone but bugs. When he gained enough experience using his crows as guides, Shisui forbade Sasuke from helping him clean. He shouldn’t have to relive that night.

 

 

Besides, Shisui couldn’t see how gross it was and, after a while, he got used to the smell. 

 

 

After that, they began salvaging their clan’s legacy, which really was just a nice way of saying he and Sasuke rifled through people’s belongings. Scrolls, seals, weapons -- there were so many left behind.

 

 

Sasuke wanted to learn everything, especially the advanced clan techniques reserved for those the equivalent of genin or higher; however, Shisui refused. Living with a civilian family for those years only increased his dislike for child soldiers, even if it was for the village’s sake. He learned the hard way how far people go for the sake of the village. Maybe it's because a part of him wished  _ he _ didn’t have to grow up so fast, but Shisui wanted Sasuke to ease into shinobi-hood like Sakura. You only have a few  years when innocence won’t get you killed in the world after all. You have the rest of your life to be vengeful.)

 

 

“I really need to get stronger,” Sasuke says, face buried in Shisui’s t-shirt and arms wrapped around him, “I can’t stand this.”  _ I have something, something more than memories, I have to protect now. _

 

 

“Okay,” Shisui assures him. There are so many senbon-sized scars all over Sasuke’s  _ visible _ skin that he’s how hard he hugs back, choosing instead to gingerly pat his head.

 

 

He's glad Sasuke has found people to care about, except it leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. Mournfulness? The realization that time is like sand in a sieve -- Sasuke is growing older and changing. Life goes on outside the walls of the Uchiha compound; the gears of the world turn despite Shisui's stillness.

 

 

* * *

 

With a sigh, Kakashi locks his apartment door behind him and tosses his grocery bag of instant yakisoba onto his table. Tenzo, for some reason, is trying to hide his chakra signature.

 

 

There are ears to the wall, Tenzo makes clear from the beginning by pointing to the prosthetic ear he took the liberty to stick onto one of Kakashi’s walls. 

 

 

[Did you get that from the hospital?] Kakashi signs, [I’m not going there to return it, so you better remember to take it with you].

 

 

[This is serious] Tenzo signs back.

 

 

Kakashi makes it very obvious that he turns to look at the ear, then back to Tenzo, who juts his head out like his logic is crystal clear. Because shinobi are masters of espionage and code, Tenzo’s logic  _ is  _ actually clarified when he pulls a potato from a grocery bag and points to himself.

 

 

Ah, this takes Kakashi back to when Tenzo first became Tenzo. They made a secret vegetable code to talk about Root because Tenzo was -- justifiably -- paranoid about the rest of Anbu. What if one of them was a part of Root? What if they see and tell Danzo that he told Kakashi too much information about their organization? If he felt like he had to use it this many years later and in Kakashi’s apartment, which was decorated by nothing but seals and the occasional "mysterious" stain, it must be pretty important.

 

 

Still, it's hard to take seriously. Kakashi scratches his chin, a lot of things seemed so serious when he was younger.

 

 

[You should be nicer to yourself] Kakashi signs [about your appearance]. He gently caresses Tenzo's hand, eliciting a tired glare.

 

 

From the grocery bag, Tenzo brings out an ear of corn, a cherry, a tomato, and  a whole stick of Narutomaki. The last one is not any type of fresh produce, but considering that it's Naruto -- someone whose vegetable intake only comes from ramen -- Kakashi decides not to tease Tenzo about it. 

 

 

Kakashi raises an eyebrow, however, when his kouhai brings out a plum and sets it next to the cherry. Tenzo makes eye contact with him with an expression that yells "okay, wait for it", then switches it out the plum for a radish.

 

 

[Replacement?] He signs

 

 

Tenzo looks at the carpet [I don't know. Could be genjutsu or brainwashing too.]

 

 

[Sakura's parents are always traveling, so-]

 

 

[Root could also be threatening Sakura to keep quiet.]

 

 

[Can you take a vacation and trail] Kakashi points at the radish [for a while? Ume likely knows to look out for me.]

 

 

It makes sense that Danzo would come for Naruto and Sasuke eventually. It makes even more sense that he'd target Team Seven at their soft underbelly. 

 

 

Tenzo takes a deep breath before speaking aloud, "Roger that." He looks more tired, more weighed down, than he did before they started playing with their food.

 

 

"Senpai," Tenzo stops halfway through the door, " It never ends, does it?"

 

 

"No."

 

 

Kakashi looks away as he closes the door, only to see the prosthetic ear again.

 

 

"Wait, come back. Take this ear with you!" Kakashi calls after his kouhai.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sasuke plops down beside Shisui where he’s leaning against a folded up futon.

 

 

“What? No ‘I’m home!’?” Shisui says as he stops juggling tangerines.

 

 

“You have your crows. You already know when I get home. What’s the point?”

 

 

“The point is that it's nice. My beloved baby cousin returns after a long day of work!”

 

 

“Long day is an understatement.”

 

 

“Huh, why’s that?”

 

 

“You don’t track where I go?”

 

 

“Well, not after you complained about ‘not being a toddler’ and told me to stop sending crows to keep an eye on you during missions.”

 

 

“I… didn’t think you’d listen,” Sasuke looks pleasantly surprised, “Well, today we-” Shisui wants to wipe an imaginary tear from his eye. Sasuke really said “we” in reference to his team. “-were sent to Nekobaa in Sora-Ku to collect the last paw print in my-  _ the _ Paw Print Encyclopedia. The Nekomata’s paw print.”

 

 

“I almost forgot how much you liked cats when you worked on the Paw Print Encyclopedia. Ahh, you were so much cuter before. So much nicer. ‘Shisui-nii! Shisui-nii!’, actually it was more like ‘Shishi-nii!’. Haha-  _ oof.” _ Sasuke slugs Shisui on the shoulder with a pout, something Shisui obviously sensed coming, of course.

 

 

“Now you’re so cruel. You punched a blind man.”

 

 

“ _ Anyways _ , we had to wear,” Sasuke shrudders, “Nevermind…” He details the battle with the Nekomata, accepting a tangerine slice from Shisui somewhere in the middle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The door jingles as Tamaki polishes a display sword. A man steps through, taking off his hood once the door shuts behind him. Straight sepia brown hair fades into curly black.

 

 

“Tamaki-chan, it’s been a while!”

 

 

“Eh? Who are you?” she squeaks, almost dropping the sword onto the glass case of knives below. He scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

 

 

“I guess I never came by that often. Well, don’t go around shouting my name, but I’m Uchiha-”

 

 

“Shisui-kun,” her grandmother purrs softly, walking into the room with a box of kunai, “This is a surprise.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Happy birthday to you.” It’s almost a month too early for this.

 

 

“Happy birthday to you.” Sasuke wears the deepest scowl he can find. This is stupid. This pastel striped cone hat is stupid.

 

 

“Happy birthday dear Saaaauce Cake.” Oh Shisui did that on  _ purpose _ .

 

 

“Happy birthday to you.” Sasuke tries to dodge Shisui’s attempt to boop his nose, but his cousin is too fast.

 

 

He shuts his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Why.”

 

 

“Because,” Shisui says all too proudly, “I got you an early birthday present. And! Before you say anything, I’m giving it to you know because you’ll want it sooner than later.”

 

 

“Okay...” Cryptic bastard.

 

 

In the neatly wrapped box Sasuke is handed, there is another box and another box inside that one and another box inside  _ that _ one. All of them are wrapped so neatly, Sasuke rips the paper up more than he would have if they didn’t look so nice. In the last box, he finds a scroll.

 

 

“N-ninneko?” 

 

* * *

 

 

 

After Tenzo trailed Ume for a week and turned up with nothing suspicious except the woman's oddly wide range of skills, Kakashi figured he should get it over with.

 

 

Naruto and Sasuke run off to catch Tora in the vein of the unspoken competition between them, as expected. Sakura, however, strolls after them at a leisurely pace. Did she really want to be a shinobi?

 

 

"Ah, Sakura-chan, if you could stay behind for a bit?"

 

 

She cocks her head to the side, looking bored, but snaps straight again cheerfully, "Sure!" Teacher's pet through and through. 

 

 

“Is anyone threatening you?”

 

 

“Uhm," she considers thoughtfully, unfazed by the weird question, "Sometimes Ino says she’ll make Sasuke get a restraining order on me when she wins his love, but other than that, no."

 

 

This isn't some code, right? 

 

 

(Kakashi, born to a shinobi and raised by shinobi, has no idea what a restraining order is.)

 

 

The look on his face seems to cause Sakura to panic further.

 

 

"I-its not serious or anything! Konoha doesn't let shinobi file restraining orders, or more like, there are no restraining orders that shinobi can file," she makes large hand gestures as she speaks, " 'Civilians without clans brought the concept to Konoha, so clan shinobi decided they were above such frivolous things' that's page one twenty-five of  _ A History of Law in Konoha _ ."

 

 

He squints, hard, though not bringing his sharingan out, "Do you have anything on weird your tongue?"

 

 

"Kakashi sensei if you want to tell me I have bad breath, just say it to my face!" Sakura stomps away, towards the sounds of Naruto shouting.

 

 

Maybe… Root is threatening Ume only, and she's leaving Sakura in the dark? 

 

 

God, Kakashi thinks as he follows after his student, civilians are hard to understand.

 

 

* * *

 

“New record,” Sasuke smirks as he dangles Tora’s kennel above Naruto’s head. The idiot might be better than a dead last now that he’s got proper training, but he’s still the shortest of Team Seven. (While Sasuke himself is technically shorter than Sakura, the way his hair sticks up boosts him a couple centimeters).

 

 

Naruto pauses from searching. Slowly, he turns around and his eyes widen in horror. 

 

 

“How’d you find that demon so quickly?” he points at Sasuke accusingly, then calmer, he leans in to the bars of the kennel, “How can I be sure that isn’t an illusion?”

 

 

Tora’s paw swipes through the bars, pampered claws catching Naruto’s skin. Surprised, Naruto takes a step backward, but loses his footing at the last second. Without thinking, Sasuke grabs Naruto by the scruff of his jumpsuit.

 

 

It feels like the breath jumped out of him, along with anything he was planning to say. He feels so betrayed by his body ( it feels as if someone he trusted told a secret of his to someone else), so Sasuke immediately lets go of Naruto as soon as he can compose himself. 

 

 

“I used a technique exclusive to me, dobe.”

 

 

“And what’s that?” asks not Naruto, but Kakashi with Sakura in tow.

 

 

“It’s -” Sasuke says, flustered, because he really wants to leave Naruto in the dark about his new ability, “uh.”

 

 

“Nyaww, cat got your tongue?” Momo -- a grey and black ninneko dressed in mesh armor and a light blue uwagi -- crawls up from where he’s been napping in Sasuke’s collar. His stupidly soft tail tickles Sasuke’s cheek.

 

 

"Kakashi sensei, it's obviously a ninneko, as it's a cat with ninja qualities. Weren't you considered a prodigy? Ninja animals are a concept introduced in the first year of the Academy as has been standard since before you entered," Sakura rolls her eyes and reapplies the glittery cherry chapstick she keeps in her side pouch. It was also taught in the Academy that you shouldn't use scented products.

 

 

Kakashi, who has ninken, opens his mouth, then closes his mouth. He sneezes. Sasuke thinks he can hear him mutter, " _ cats _ " bitterly.

 

 

"Anyways, Sasuke-kun!" Sakura squeals as she pets Momo's head, "the more important question is  _ how _ . Ninneko serve Bakeneko in Sora-ku."

 

 

"... Summoning contract."

 

 

Naruto surveys Momo carefully before shouting, "Kakashi-sensei, I want one too! Like, uh, ninja-"

 

 

"Sasuke, where did you get the contract?" Kakashi says benevolently with his eye closed.

 

 

"Found it in one of my clansmen's house." Ugh, that'll shut them up.

 

 

 (it's the closest to the truth Sasuke can get).

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the kakashi parts took the most time writing because i don't want to doom myself in the future... OTL. I tried to do the vegetable code the best I could but, alas... :,-)
> 
> anyways, i got distracted from writing this because i watched Promare and have been drawing Promare art non stop. honestly, if its in your area, please do yourself a favor and go watch it!
> 
> also, why do people write sakura as being like "i'd like to eat the umeboshi. only." it _is_ one of her favorite foods -- i get that -- but like, its supposed to be like a pickled condiment??? you don't just eat umeboshi straight. you gotta put it on rice or something, dude. are you a freak? yes, i went through a period of my life when i ate umeboshi straight from the container, but Its Not The Typical Thing To Do.

**Author's Note:**

> solution to not knowing shit about jutsus: limited pov  
> i was practically raised on Naruto, but i haven't consumed actual canon material since elementary school :-)
> 
> i'm open to any suggestions (ships welcomed) and i love talking!  
> Patch notes 17.2.19: rewritten to be present tense, removed some extraneous details, removed the honorifics in the narration because I realized it was annyoing


End file.
